Trip to Corsica

Well, the summer has ended in record-breaking fashion, which rather seems to be the way of all things weather-wise for the past couple of years.  During the last few days of September we recorded temperatures in the region of 29^oC – a confusing contrast to the autumn leaves and ripening berries, but a very welcome way to see out the summer.



Just for a change I thought I would write, not about life on our smallholding, but about our recent holiday to north Corsica.  Yes, holiday – not something that smallholders can often indulge themselves in as, of course, the animals at home won’t look after themselves.  So the holiday, our first in 6 years, was preceded by several evenings spent getting everything in order on the smallholding and writing copious instructions for our ‘sitter’ – a veterinary nurse, so more than capable of looking after our horses, sheep, poultry and dogs!

This was our third visit to the island, a great chunk of granite with a fascinating history, glorious mountain and coastal scenery, and relatively untouched by mass tourism, especially in the mountainous interior.  Of particular interest is the pride that Corsicans take in their natural resources and the food they produce in a landscape that is a few degrees off vertical in most areas – which makes driving an interesting experience!



During our travels I’d spotted sheep grazing on impossibly high slopes and craggy outcrops – of course the sheep are a far cry from the heavy lowland Hampshire Downs we keep at home.  The ones we saw were rather more like goats, and of course goats are also bred for their milk, cheese and meat – we only spotted this one by following the sound of its bell up the mountain!



The local free-ranging cattle, small and compact, are also unfazed by heights, and seem to be able to survive on next to nothing, though some appeared to me to be in rather poor condition.  Obviously they are a dual-purpose breed, bred to produce both milk and meat for the village; there is certainly no scope for mega-dairies in this landscape!  Similarly, semi-feral pigs and sanglier (wild boar) are reared in the chestnut forests on the equally mountainous eastern side of the island.  The sweet chestnuts they feed on gives the charcuterie the most wonderful flavour.

All of this is a far cry from the relatively intensified farming methods that we are used to in lowland Britain.  Even those of us who rear our livestock extensively on pastures are likely to spend a great deal more time observing and ‘cosseting’ our animals, and consequently it can come as something of an eye-opener to see how livestock have to fend for themselves in far harsher environments, with far less human intervention.
One of the island’s specialities is ‘Fromage du Brebis’, cheese produced from sheep’s milk ranging from matured hard cheeses such as ‘U Pecurinu’ to fresh soft cheese called ‘Brocciu’ – all of it absolutely delicious.  Having filmed the whole process of making ewe’s milk cheese from lambing through lactation to labelling for our “Sheep for Business, Enterprise & Profit” programme, I was really interested to learn something about how the various types of Corsican cheeses were produced.

The specialist-milking breed, the ‘Corse’ (one of the breeds recognised as a ‘Heritage Sheep’ by the EU) is small (the ewes weigh just 35kgs) and very hardy, living outdoors in arid Mediterranean grassland and mountainous areas.  In spite of this, the ewes can be milked for 180 days after weaning the lamb at 35 days, producing over 130 litres of milk per lactation.



We stopped one day to visit one of the lowland sheep-breeding farms, and if I’m honest, I didn’t really like what I saw.  It was lambing time and we watched the flock of about 300 ewes and their newborn lambs.  I’m used to the smell of sheep and I don’t find it at all unpleasant, but there was a very unpleasant smell here, which I quickly traced to a heap of small lambs that had been slung into a ditch.  A lot of the ewes were very lame, and several showed signs of mastitis.  In general, the standard of husbandry was not what we would consider adequate, and the disregard for what we call “Disposal of Fallen Stock”, was shocking.

So, as you see, our holiday wasn’t quite of the sun, sand and sangria variety, though by way of compensation, we did spend a couple of days on this heart-achingly beautiful beach!  And I didn’t think about sheep once.











At 9 weeks old, the chicks are now almost fully feathered and are displaying all the behaviours of grown-up chickens – despite never having had any contact with a real chicken (being artificially incubated and brooded).  They peck at anything that moves and scratch the ground to uncover interesting insects and grubs.  They roost on their perches at night and have begun to preen their feathers.  We’re just waiting for the first egg, though of course the earliest we can expect this is at around 18 weeks … if, that is any of them are hens and not cockerels!  Last month we were guessing that of the four, three were hens, but are now having to revise this based on the appalling behaviour of the little Welsummer.

Welly chases the other 3 around their little run, barges them away from the food and pecks them at the slightest excuse – a typical cockerel in the making, and there is a distinct upturn to the tail feathers.  It’s almost impossible to tell for sure until a chicken either lays an egg or crows, but, sadly, my money is on Welly crowing.  Time will tell.