Down on the Farm

Becky's crash course in Whistlebare Farm Life.

After my trial period as resident barista, my role at Whistlebare rapidly changed. Sitting at lunch everyday looking at the photographs of the Angora goats and Wensleydale Sheep, I knew I wanted to visit the farm, but like many things in life right now, I just hadn’t got around to it. Little did I know that I would soon be tasked with a very immersive visit …

I had very briefly popped by days into the month so that Alice could help me with a particularly tricky bit of sewing (elastic - something yet to master!) and from what I observed in those 15 minutes, I was both delighted and completely unfazed when Alice asked me if I would be willing to look after the farm for a weekend. A couple of fields, a smattering of animals. “No problem!”.

I quickly realised moments into my pre-weekend orientation that I had fallen susceptible to the classic adage - “don’t judge a book by its cover”. Whilst my Dad, familiar with pretty much all of the farms in the local area, assured me that Whistlebare “isn’t actually that big”, I retorted “that may be so, but when you’re not a farmer it certainly doesn’t feel that way!”.

In theory the responsibilities were simple. Take a 20 minute walk morning and evening around the farm to make sure everyone was fed and watered, looking well and not trapped in any fences.

My first sense of impending doom was not about the livestock but of lovely Letty, the dog. She came along with me to the Edinburgh wave pool on the first evening, and I felt as if we were getting on just fine as she wagged her tail and gleefully trotted alongside on a walk. But then halfway into the visit her mood changed and she looked sheepish and held her back legs in such a way that induced a sense of uncertainty. “No” I thought, “I’m only 4 hours in!”.

Noticing blood at the top of her tail, I was somewhat relieved at the notion that maybe it was just a time of the month issue. But then another thought quickly replaced my deduction… Can that happen to a 12 year old dog!? I was clueless.

As the dog looked at me with big vulnerable eyes, I quickly texted my vet friend, and was horrified to find out that, yes, it could be what I suspected, but it could also be pyometra, a severe life threatening disease. “Oh … my … gosh”.

After much googling and much stress, I relented and texted Alice. I was not looking forward to telling her on the first evening of the trip that her treasured hound might be critically ill. “Becky calm down”, she replied, “You’d absolutely know if Letty was seriously unwell, does she look like herself?”. I looked down at the dog and she looked back at me and wagged her tail, “Yes … she looks absolutely fine”. Blind panic definitely took over my senses at that moment. And for the record, she was absolutely fine, just a lady protecting her dignity combined with missing her Mum!

System now on high alert, I was convinced this was the start of a series of disasters, and from that moment on I was convinced that everything that was going well was actually not. On reflection was that really the case? Of course not. I had a lovely time.

Did anything else go wrong? Oh, to have been a fly on the wall on my penultimate morning. I am a woman who gives herself just enough time to do things. Rising 30 minutes before leaving for work, 10 minutes to get myself ready and 20 minutes to check on the farm, I hadn’t accounted for any break outs.

As I stood brushing my teeth looking out onto a field of goats and sheep, my eyes adjusted to the view and I noticed all was not as it was meant to be. The sheep had found a cunning way through the electric fence, munching away on the freshly cropped hay that was drying for this year’s winter food. The goats were happily gnawing away at some of the newly budding saplings. Me, racing up and down the field in my pyjamas and some wellington boots a size too large, desperately trying to restore order in the small amount of time I had allocated myself. Mission success? Mercifully so!

In summary, being in the midst of a very stressful house sale, I was relieved and grateful to be given a reason to get out into the fresh air every morning and evening for a nourishing walk in the countryside. I’ve never owned a dog, but quickly adapted to the joy of the quiet yet willing company. I enjoyed sharing the experience with my Dad, who came up with the bikes for a cycle and then to accompany me on a farm walk, where we got caught up taking hilarious selfies with the boisterous horses. Not to mention trying to wrangle a very stubborn kid back into his correct field. An escapee, he seemed less interested in his source of food and more in exploring the home of his neighbours, refusing help at any opportunity. We affectionately named him “Doylum”.

And finally my favourite moment. Farm dog Letty would take herself off for a morning race around the fields. I quickly realised that recall sometimes took a little longer than expected if she was immersed in a particularly interesting scent. Known not to be a lover of car journeys, I decided to set up her car seat and see what would happen while I went off to do my final job - collect the eggs.

Much to my delight I returned to find her ready to go, tongue sticking out, tail wagging in the passenger seat of the car.

Farmlife, 10/10.

Best, Becky.

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Whistlebare Fold is open from 8.45am - 5pm Monday to Saturday, and 10am - 5pm on Sundays. Online orders remain open as ever.

If you would like to visit, you can find us at: 17A Bridge St, Berwick-upon-Tweed, TD15 1ES