Fight For Your Dream (16 page)

Hard Graft

It looked like a giant Meccano set! For ease of erection, Nigel had numbered and labelled all the separate pieces of steel for the framework. We'd each been allocated our own job so, after a final briefing from Nigel, we all knew the sequence of events, what we had to do and when we had to do it. ‘Practical' should be Nigel's middle name, because one of my Christmas presents was a set of walkie talkies. We needed some way of communicating with each other over the sound of machinery and contractors plant, so Nigel decided that walkie talkies would be ideal. Don't get me wrong; I'm not at all adverse to practical presents, but it just epitomises the essence of how an engineer's mind works. One year, when we were very much into our sailing, Nigel bought me a Bosun's chair for Christmas. This traditionally consists of a plank of wood encapsulated with canvas, with two pieces of rope attached to an eyelet. A crew member can then hoist his fellow crew member up the mast to sort out any high level problems (i.e. electrical, or rope work). It came as no surprise to me when Nigel reasoned that there was no way I was strong enough to haul his fifteen stone frame up the mast! No prizes for guessing who was going up the mast then!

I wouldn't say the Manitou was a difficult machine to drive, but the joystick which moved the telescopic beam was highly sensitive. One incorrect move on the joystick, and Nigel could have been fireman Sam no longer.

‘You'll be fine,' Nigel reassured me. ‘Just take your time, and think what you're doing before you do it. You've driven a dumper truck before'.

‘Oh, great, no probs then, should be a doddle,' I replied sarcastically, as I climbed into the cab. Once the frames had been assembled on the ground we were ready to lift them into place. Nigel hooked the webbing strap onto the Manitou and gave me instructions over the walkie talkie to start lifting. I was as nervous as hell, but I knew it was down to me. I couldn't expect dads to take on the responsibility, and Nigel and Andy had their own part to play. All credit to Nigel, the frames slotted onto the bolts on the ground with such accuracy. Once the first frame was in place, we all had a much better idea of what we were doing. The one problem that still remained was that we still had to remove the strap from the hook on the teleporter. This seemed a good time to have a tea break whilst we deliberated how we could achieve this. With cup of tea in hand, we all looked skyward toward the hook and strop that were swaying in the wind. Nigel broke the silence when he said, ‘Well, the only way to remove it is by ladder. I can't think of any other option. The frame won't take that much weight on it, though, because it's only held up by the bolts on the ground.' I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when everyone's gaze turned towards me. After all, it was obvious, I weighed less by far; silly me for not offering sooner!

Several months into construction and it was beginning to look something like a farm, although the work was taking its toll on all of us. The one job we did contract out was the roof and the concrete flooring. Jim, a bricklayer and a friend of Nigel's, had previously done some work for us on Bassett, so was called in to erect the two-metre wall around the barn. The timber boarding that sat on top of the external wall turned out to be such a laborious job. Nigel and I nailed hundreds and hundreds of six-inch wide Yorkshire boards on. They butted up to the base of the roof, with several nails in each board. That's a lot of nails! One of the last jobs to do was to install alpaca pens and stabling. Costs were beginning to escalate at quite an alarming rate by now. We had limited resources available, hence the reason why we completed most of the work ourselves. Summertime 2001 and we had turned our attentions to the outdoor work. Further excavations, outdoor arenas, field separation, stock fencing and, of course, the alpacas. I'd promised myself that I must find time to take my two girls back down to Bozedown to get them covered. Part of the original purchase price included 50% off stud fees for first time returning customers. I was keen to start increasing my herd numbers, so I was determined to put the girls in calf. Considering that the gestation period is fifty weeks, I had to sort it sooner rather than later. I'd kept in touch with Joy at Bozedown, and we spoke fairly regularly over the phone. There were many times when I needed advice and, to be fair to Joy, she was always willing to lend an ear and help in any way she could.

Joy had shown a great deal of interest in the purchase of the land. ‘Forty-two acres is a substantial smallholding to own,' I remember her saying to me feeling rather panicked. I'm sure Joy presumed we'd got a plan in mind to put the land to use, but actually we hadn't at all. I suppose we'd bought it on a bit of a whim, although I was too embarrassed to admit that. In the end, I never had to make the trip down to Oxfordshire, as Joy and Ken (Joy's husband) were due to make a trip up country to visit their associate breeders. Joy very kindly offered to bring the two studs I'd chosen for my girls along with them in the trailer, in return for a bed for the night. It benefited both of us, so that's what we agreed. Joy Whitehead was a big name in the UK Alpaca industry, and I suppose I was inspired by what she had already achieved. If I could be half as successful as Joy had been then that would be fine by me. Joy and Ken were lovely people, very well spoken and from visiting their home on several occasions, it was obvious that they had done very nicely for themselves. Ken was a retired British Airways pilot and, although he had retired a few years earlier, he still loved his flying. He owned a modern light aircraft and a historic bi-plane, you know, just like most folk!

The biplane was housed in a small aircraft hanger, which was part of their one hundred and twenty acre site, along with their home. On one occasion Nigel and myself were sat in their kitchen eating Joy's homemade soup, when Ken suddenly jumped up from the table, looking at his watch saying, ‘Crikey, is that the time? I really must fly.' We thought nothing of it at the time; it was just a figure of speech. Fifteen minutes later we heard the sound of really loud engines nearby and Joy said, ‘Oh, don't look so worried, it'll be Ken. I'll just see him off.' ‘See him off?' I whispered to Nigel, ‘He went ages ago'. We must have looked absolutely star-struck as we gaped out of the window. Joy was on the lawn waving madly as Ken was just taxiing past ready for take off in his historic bi-plane. We stood there in amazement, watching this unbelievable scene unfold in front of our eyes. There was Ken on the controls, with his Biggles helmet and goggles on, and scarf flailing behind him. Honestly, it looked like a sketch from the cartoon series, ‘Wacky Races'. When Ken had said, ‘I really must fly,' we never imagined he meant literally! We couldn't stop laughing all the way home.

Pastures New

It seemed as though we'd been talking about the farm for ever.

There had been so many aspects of the build that we had tackled, so many construction problems that we'd had to overcome, and still so much more to do.

We had eaten, drunk and slept the farm for such a long time that it all came as a bit of a shock when one day we realised we were very nearly there!

Joy Whitehead had stopped off at Sheffield to stay overnight at Bassett on a couple of occasions whilst travelling around the country to see her associate breeders. These were like-minded alpaca people who had become associated with Bozedown Alpacas, in order to benefit from the excellent reputation that Joy had developed, and also to gain access to the superb pool of genetics that was present in the Bozedown herd. The reciprocal benefit from Bozedown's point of view was that they received a twenty five percent cut from the profit generated from each transaction.

Considering that we were at such an early stage of our development, our facilities had obviously made a big impression on Joy for her to invite us to become one of her northern associate breeders. The facilities were now physically in place. What I lacked were some alpacas to sell, as well as hands-on experience with the finer points of alpaca breeding. Joy provided the solution to this problem by offering to loan us our initial sales stock after I completed a weeks tutoring by Joy at Bozedown Alpaca farm. Obviously, I jumped at the opportunity to spend some quality time learning my trade from someone who I considered to be tutor and mentor. Both my girls were heavily pregnant by now, and I was keen to have some hands-on experience birthing crias, before I had it all to do on my own farm in the coming weeks.

Two weeks later, mid-July 2002, I tentatively climbed into Nigel's silver Mitsubishi Shogun to make the four-and-a-half hour drive down to Bozedown in Oxfordshire.

Unfortunately I had been in the wars again. My neck was in a rigid neck collar!

Ever since the prolapsed disc in my lower back had been operated on, another disc in my neck had been detected on the MRI Scan as being slightly prolapsed. Every now and then it would flare up and, apart from anti-inflammatory and pain killers, there wasn't much I could do about it apart from waiting for it to ease.

Both mums were horrified to hear that I was still insistent on making the trip to Oxfordshire, but even Nigel couldn't deter me. This trip alone for me would be a first, as I'd never spent a night away from Nigel since we'd been married, apart from my unavoidable stays in hospital. I'd never even driven on a motorway on my own, so this was scary stuff, and I must admit to being quite anxious about the whole thing. Nevertheless, I was determined to keep to our arrangement. In the end the drive down was fairly non-eventful. Nigel had written down all the directions to reach Bozedown, and I made several stops for refreshments, as he'd suggested. In fact I really quite enjoyed singing along to the Tom Jones CD that I'd bought from the services. Nigel had rung me on several occasions during the journey to make sure I was okay and still on track with his directions. I know it seems ridiculous, but this was a big event for me, and I was pretty proud of myself when I finally turned into the village of Whitchurch. I'd reached my destination without any hitches. All I had to do now was check in at the White Hart public house, and relax for the rest of the evening. This was to be my home for the next seven days.

The following morning the alarm clock woke me at 6.30am prompt. I washed, dressed and made my way down to the small restaurant that I'd eaten in the night before. This morning it had been transformed into a breakfast room. However, I was excited about the forthcoming day's events, so much so that the butterflies in my tummy suppressed my appetite. Nevertheless, I did my best to demolish as much of the cooked breakfast as I could possibly manage. I didn't know when I would next eat, so thought it best to stock up on energy, and the old saying of ‘breakfast like a King' sprung to mind. The short journey to Bozedown took no longer than two or three minutes by car. I had contemplated walking there, but decided against it, considering I might be grateful to just flop into the car on my return journey later, depending on how hard I'd been worked during the day.

Apart from that, the weather was boiling hot and the walk to the farm was all uphill. As I approached the farm, the familiar site of alpacas grazing was welcoming. The peaceful nature of alpacas always made me feel calm, and I felt a warm glow inside. What incredible creatures they were, and how fortunate I had been to have them enhance my life when I so needed them. Perhaps the man upstairs was looking out for me after all. Mary-Jo, Joy's niece and second-in-command, was there to greet me. Mary-Jo is Canadian, a confident, short, buxom lady with a big personality. She'd been working alongside Joy for a few years now and, although primarily office-based, she was extremely knowledgeable about alpacas. I'd met Mary-Jo on a number of occasions and, although I liked her, I must admit to being slightly overawed by her extrovert personality and confident manner. This may have been partly down to me, as back then I was a very different person from the person I am today. Seventeen years ago I was shy, nervous, inexperienced but, most of all, I didn't have an ounce of self-esteem. Mary-Jo appeared to me to be everything I wasn't and I was envious of that. However, she knew her stuff, and I respected her for that.

The majority of the morning was spent familiarising myself with the layout of the farm in general: how the paddocks had been separated, catch pen areas, segregation of males/females, nursing paddocks and so on. I was shown where feeds were made up, various veterinary vaccines that were used on site, and what they were used for, whilst all the time making notes to further my understanding of what would be required of me if I was to be responsible and successful in running a similar operation. By the end of the first day I was knackered, not so much physically, but mentally. I was pleased that I'd made the decision to drive myself to the farm and not walk there, although it would have been all downhill on the return journey!

That evening I rang Nigel to tell him about the day's events. I was tired, but I was also on a high. I was full of it. For once in my life I was doing something for me, something that I was passionate about, something that I never thought I would find, contentment.

Mayfield Alpacas - Open for Business

The following days were invaluable in my early business education. I listened and learned from Joy, she was a good teacher, and her love of alpacas shone through.

She was a talented businesswoman in her own right, but her genuine love of alpacas was obvious. Mary-Jo, on the other hand, seemed much more matter of fact.

I can remember, on one occasion during that week, a cria had been born to a young female, but sadly it was born with a deformity. It had what we call a ‘wry' face, which is basically a disfiguration of the face which means that the teeth do not align properly. This means that the alpaca would probably never be able to eat sufficient amounts of food, and then would not be able to ‘chew the cud' to digest anything properly. So it could face much future suffering. Mary-Jo was of the opinion that it should be culled (humanely killed) immediately. Joy was not happy when she suggested it. Neither was I. It's never an easy decision. However, on this occasion, nature made the decision for Bozedown as, sadly, the little cria died later on that same day. But if we thought that this little cria could never live out a normal, healthy life due to its deformity then, as responsible breeders, we would have had to face up to making a hard decision. My love and passion for these animals means more to me than solely running a successful business. I suppose in the true sense of the word you could say I'm not your typical ‘businesswoman'. Maybe some would argue I am not, but what I am is satisfied in the knowledge that I am true to myself and the animals that I care for.

Towards the end of the week, I was feeling more and more confident about dealing with the different situations that I could be faced with at some time in the future. I felt like a sponge; the more I absorbed the more I wanted to learn. I began questioning Joy about all the different aspects of alpaca psychology and physiology; you name it, I asked it. I couldn't have blamed Joy if, by the end of the week, she had been pleased to see the back of me. I'd certainly been testing her knowledge and, at times, I think she was aware of that.

I suppose, for me, the highlight of the week had to be hands-on birthing a cria. Even now, after all these years, assisting a dam (female alpaca) to help deliver her cria is one of the most emotional and rewarding tasks I have ever done. Nature is a fascinating phenomenon and one which never ceases to amaze me. To watch a dam encourage her newborn cria to stand reduces me to tears every time. She'll caress and gently hum to her newborn, giving little nudges of encouragement, whilst all the time guarding her precious baby with her life. Alpacas are very social creatures, and all female alpacas like to play a part in welcoming the latest newcomer to their herd. They all gather round at a birth to greet the new arrival with great interest, sometimes at the disapproval of mum. If aunties get too close, mum will retaliate with a spit as if to say, ‘Back off, too close for comfort.' If an inquisitive cria does the same he/she will be rebuffed with a spit and a nibble as if to say, ‘Clear off, my property.'

On the whole though, most females will happily live together in harmony and look out for each other; after all, having a baby is quite a big deal.

It was late July 2002, Nigel had rung me at 8.00am to let me know that he was on his way down to Bozedown to collect me and our little herd of twelve alpacas. I'd missed Nigel loads over the past week and I was so looking forward to seeing him. I'd so much I wanted to tell him and talk to him about, I was almost bursting. Finally, around 12.30pm, my blue Mitsubishi Shogun appeared out of the tree-lined lane with a six-wheeler livestock trailer on tow. Again, our good neighbours had come to our rescue and had generously offered to lend us their brand new trailer for our own use. It was difficult trying to restrain myself from rushing up to Nigel and throwing my arms around him, but I thought better of it since there was quite a large audience of staff around. Instead we warmly hugged each other as I whispered, ‘Love you.' Nigel reciprocated by kissing my head and answering ‘Me you too.'

We didn't want to waste too much time loading the alpacas, as we still had a long drive back to Sheffield, and with twelve animals in the trailer it was going to be quite a tight squeeze. Joy was there to oversee the loading and, to be fair to the alpacas, they walked into the trailer like the animals in Noah's Ark, two by two.

The paperwork and agreement had been dealt with before we loaded the animals, so all that remained was to say our thanks and goodbyes, and we were on our way.

Looking back to that day now, I have so much to be grateful to Joy for. In essence, Joy provided me with the opportunity to stand on my own two feet from day one.

She was putting her trust in me to take away twelve of her own alpacas, to be cared for by me. I was naïve, green and, above all else, very new to such an enterprise; only time would tell if I would survive.

I think if I had known back then what I know now, I would have been less likely to achieve what I have done with Mayfield Alpacas. Mayfield Alpacas has evolved, literally, day by day, week by week, month by month, and year on year. It might sound ridiculous, but I don't think I ever really sat back and took the time to think what I was getting myself into. Maybe if I had done I would have run a mile. That balmy July evening, when we unlocked the back of the trailer to unload the Bozedown animals, became a turning point in my life from alpaca hobbyist to the successful businesswoman that I am today.