That hoary old joke, “I used to be indecisive, but now I’m not sure”, could easily have been made for me, since indecisiveness and a lack of certainty around decision making are a daily occurrence.

The latest example of vagueness in my cognitive ability surrounds the whole environmental and carbon issues that bombard our agricultural world.

Fair enough, terminology like ‘sequestration’, ‘carbon footprint ‘and acronyms such as GWP (global warming potential) have gradually been absorbed and understood.

But there is still much uncertainty when a 62-year-old farmer must perform what amounts to an enormous U-turn on the great farming highway of life.

When you have been reared on a diet of production, production, and a bit more production, then ‘old dogs and new tricks’ best describes the complete change in mind-set that is expected and required.

Outlook

However, my single biggest question is whether my own increased interest in the natural world around me is caused by a bit of gentle brainwashing from the never-ending tsunami of environmental information - or is it simply that I am getting older and have an entirely different outlook than 10 years ago?

I readily accept that being an empty nester, along with the accompanying financial easing that goes hand in hand with it, gives some of us more time to reflect on what, exactly, we want from life.

For me, doing less work and creating more leisure time was top of the agenda. Obviously, those who have a son or daughter coming home to farm may well have a very different set of goals and this is understandable.

Still, it seems like a remarkable coincidence that my interest in nature on the farm has occurred just as I am being encouraged by governmental authorities to pursue such a route.

A bit of good old fashioned thrawness is in my DNA, so I’d hate to admit to following the environmental carrot that is going to be dangled in front of us all, but maybe, just maybe I’m guilty of succumbing.

CAFRE adviser

And here’s a working example of how your thinking can change in a few short years: when my CAFRE adviser arranged to come out and go through the farm benchmarking figures for last year, I became quite excited.

Not, as you might expect, to see how the cattle and sheep had performed, but because we were going to have a chat about my carbon footprint.

In truth, I’m at that stage where as long as the farm enterprises are doing alright, then major change is just not going to happen. I’ve spent my best years deciphering what works reasonably well on this farm, and nowadays only the finest of adjustments are likely to take place.

For the record, (and assuming I have interpreted the figures correctly and not misunderstood what I was being told) my carbon footprint is quite good.

Currently, this is the buzz phrase that we all must grasp and drop into conversation at every available moment.

And if, like mine, it is around 10, then you can say it with a degree of irritating smugness in your voice at the same time (can’t wait).

This whole farm carbon dioxide equivalent (CO2e) per kg of farm output (it’s a bit of a mouthful, but you’ll get used to it) is not unexpectedly low here, because I am probably achieving reasonably good output from relatively low inputs – it’s as simple as that.

Roadside

So, after discussing my benchmark figures, Susan and I happened to be lead-training a couple of over-enthusiastic collie pups that evening.

We stopped at the roadside to one of our fields to look at the heifers grazing.

Time was, I’d have been giving her an interesting (boring) lecture on individual cattle, but instead I found myself counting the number of different plants in the hedge beside the gate.

Blackthorn, hawthorn, holly, ivy, dogrose and honeysuckle made up the actual hedge, and down low a mixture of nettles, briars, foxgloves and roadside comfrey completed the picture.

I’m sure all those plants have been growing there for many decades; the big difference is my awareness of them.