Amanda Owen - Tales from the Farm

AMANDA OWEN grew up in Huddersfield but was inspired by the James Herriot books to leave her town life behind and head to the countryside. After working as a freelance shepherdess, cow milker and alpaca shearer, she eventually settled down as a farmers wife with her own flock of sheep at Ravenseat. Happily married with nine children, she wouldnt change a thing about her hectic but rewarding life. She and her family are the subject of C5s Our Yorkshire Farm. Amanda is also the author of the top-ten bestsellers The Yorkshire Shepherdess, A Year in the Life of the Yorkshire Shepherdessand Adventures of the Yorkshire Shepherdess.

For two years now I have written a monthly column in The Dalesmanmagazine, and what a joy it has been. I have had some real fun along the way, updating readers with what is happening on the farm ranging from the sublime (observations of nature and our glorious Yorkshire countryside), to the ridiculous (whitewashed cows, concrete-coated peacocks and children running amok). It really has been a rollercoaster ride, taking people with me on a journey while not knowing myself where it will lead or what will come next (particularly given that each column has to be written in advance, so things on the farm may very well have changed once again by the time it has been published!). And being able to recount these tales is a cathartic experience.

The Dalesmanitself needs little in the way of an introduction. This iconic monthly publication is packed with interesting and insightful articles and must be one of the most universally recognized magazines in the country. From the glossy cover right through to the back page it offers fascinating glimpses into the heritage and history of Yorkshire, stories from the countryside, rural life and much more. Over the years it has featured articles written by some of our countys most illustrious names, so it was with a certain degree of trepidation that I accepted an invitation to become one of its regular monthly columnists. I neednt have worried. I feel a sense of connection with The Dalesmans dedicated readership, and its not just that we share a deep love of our county. I believe that we have an understanding. I can relax and speak colloquially in my own voice (complete with dialect), and it is that familiarity that makes this magazine a special one to me.

My monthly columns have been collected into this new, delightfully illustrated book, and I hope very much that reading it will inspire many more people to look to The Dalesmanfor a breath of that bracing Yorkshire fresh air wherever they are in the world. As the playwright Alan Bennett once said, The Dalesmanhas proved to be something of a river; it just goes flowing on and like a river it is, I hope, unstoppable.

FEBRUARY 2019

W inter bites with its teeth and lashes with its tail, or so the proverb goes, and Im inclined to agree. There are varying ideas about when winter officially ends, but there is no doubt that in the highest reaches of the Yorkshire Dales we have disproportionately more winter than summer.

February might be the shortest of months in the calendar, but it is the one that really tests the mettle of the shepherd and flock. This is the most cheerless of landscapes when frozen, lonely and barren. There is no respite from the brutal icy blasts of wind that roll in across the moors leaving a scant sprinkling of snow, and with it an endless monochrome vista. This is a place that can invigorate, inspire and, at times, infuriate.

My fingers might be raw and my senses numbed with cold, but time spent up here watching the flock is not time wasted. Being vigilant now, keeping a close eye on the weather, is of the utmost importance, for if there were to be any talk of a storm then the sheep need bringing down off the hills and into safer ground.

The flock awaits my arrival expectantly, having been alerted to the impending delivery of hay by a series of whistles; a whistle carries further than a voice and brings the more adventurous sheep that have strayed far afield streaming back towards me, nose-to-tail in orderly fashion, in single file on the sheep trods. These well-worn paths through the heather follow the contours of the land and afford safe passage through perilous ground consisting of blanket bog and peat haggs.