to their lessons before a dozen people arrive for our first mental health walk. The idea is that we all take the animals on a stroll around the farm, giving our visitors a chance to just chat or air their troubles or lose themselves in hanging onto one of our four-legged charges – unless you count Big Dog who only has three legs.
For me, the influx of new people is a good thing. I’m so stretched that I don’t even have time to dwell on Shelby and what he may or may not be thinking.
The visitors have a cup of tea and we get out the good biscuits for them – in date and with chocolate on. Then we harness a few of the animals, which is often a bit of a trial. Today, they are all reasonably compliant – even Johnny Rotten doesn’t bolt when he sees his harness. When we introduce them to our group of eager walkers, none of the animals try to bite or back-heel our visitors. Small mercies.
Bev’s plan is that each of our visitors takes an animal to look after during their walk. When we have the three alpacas on halters, I hand them over to the sturdiest looking blokes, with strict instructions to hang on to them. Given their head, those tinkers will run and run. Then we take the little ponies which Lucas has brought down from the field. They’re generally the most compliant and are always popular with youngsters, so they are given to the more youthful visitors to walk. Lucas also brings out a selection of our smaller, happier sheep which aren’t too skittish – Teddy with the cuddly coat, Midnight with the black fleece and Baa-bara with the pretty face. Anthony the Anti-Social Sheep is deemed to be too much of a health risk to be allowed on what is intended to be a calming walk, even though he is eyeing up Baa-bara longingly. We harness the donkeys, Harriet and Hilda, too. This will be their first trial and, as they are usually extremely gentle, I have high hopes for them. Finally, we take two of the pygmy goats – Laurel and Hardy – who like any excuse to be out and about in the fields.
Eventually, when everyone has an animal to walk, we set off across the fields with Little Dog, Big Dog and Betty Bad Dog (fingers crossed that she’s channelling Betty Good Girl today). Pet lamb, Fifty, joins us too. He won’t go on a harness – he generally won’t do anything we want him to do – but is quite happy to wander after us. As we go, we become a little band of merriment, and there’s much chatter and laughter, which is nice to see. Bev looks over at me and grins. It is an I-told-you-so grin. I know that it won’t magically solve the problems they’re facing, but I like to think walking in the countryside with an alpaca, tiny goat or cheerful sheep on a regular basis might make those suffering feel just a little bit brighter for a short while.
It’s a beautiful if cold day, but we take our time walking out across the fields and down along the river. We circle the pond and, as usual, the alpacas like to have a dip. Tina Turner paddles at the edges, but Johnny Rotten ploughs straight into the middle and lies down – nearly taking his handler with him. It’s only a swift intervention from Lucas that prevents an unexpected dunking. But that’s our only near-miss, everything else goes unnervingly smoothly. The donkeys are impeccably behaved. Betty Bad Dog only wees on fence posts and hedgerows rather than on expensive shoes. The visitors really enjoy their time and it does, to my utmost relief, go without a hitch.
Bev high-fives me as we get back to the yard. ‘You can breathe again now.’
She’s not wrong. I think I have been holding my breath most of the way round and am in desperate need of a restorative cup of tea. But the session could definitely be classed as an unmitigated success, and I hope that they’ll book another one soon as it was a joy to have them here and will also bring in some most welcome funds. After last night’s argument it makes me even more determined not to be reliant for Shelby on our funding.
‘That went well,’ Lucas says as he brings Johnny Rotten to a halt beside me.
‘Yes. Thanks for your