Max has a prob

Peanut butter and home made fig jam pancakes, that is what we are having this morning for breakfast. There's no bread in the larder. I haven't made any for a few days. Too busy with lots of things to do, so no toast today, just sticky, drippy, scrumptious pancakes.

Max, (our Tamworth boar) he had an apple and baguette as an add on to his breakfast of grain. He has a problem. Max has tusks. Two. They go backwards out of the side of his mouth. I am not sure why they would be going in that direction. I thought it would have been more feasable for the tucks to be going in the forward direction. Make more impact on whatever, or whoever, it is who is needing to be damaged. Better for us, though, that they are going backwards. They are more out of the way when we are giving him a pat or an ear scratch.
   The tusks lie along the side of his face, one standing slightly away from his skin, the other now starting to grow into his skin at its tip.
   Max had an add on to his breakfast this morning. Inside the apple and baguette was a jam and milk concoction in which was hidden sedative. Six teaspoons plus some more just to be on the safe side. The plan: Max gets sleepy, ends up deeply asleep, Hubs to then saw off the offending tusk. That's the plan.

Notice to self: It is not a good idea to be involved with eating pancakes of the type already mentioned, at the same time as trying to write a blog. Attention is not given to either task, the result being a muddled slurry of words on the page, a sticky keyboard, arms that are also sticky although I know not why this should be so, and a feeling of surprise because the pancakes seem to have done a vanishing act. They are in my tum of course, but I have been too pre-occupied with trying to write a blog.
  
Four new hens have joined us. First day out today. Three seem to be quickly becoming part of the gang, but the fourth seems to be a law onto herself, preferring to do things her way. She 'spoke' to me as we were buying the others. I am not sure if she will stay here. The other three have already made up their minds to belong to the others, but this one is still thinking about it. I can see it on her face. 'Will I or will I not leave'. She has spirit, this one. Perhaps that is why I was attracted to buying her.

Was out with the new lawnmower yesterday. No rain, some sun, some cloud, brisk breeze, just right for plodding up and down a chunk of the big Front Field. Have been scything it, but parts are bald. Still needs cutting though, to get the tall seed heads off. Lawnmower called into action. We don't have a lawn to mow. We have fields. It is going to take an age. Not to worry. Have a couple of months to get the job done.
  Got bored with the mowing though. How can farmers spend all day going up and down with their tractors. It would do my head in. Could only mow for a couple of hours, after which my head was tired with the sameness of the job.
   Now scything, that is a different matter. I get into quite a quirky rhythm when doing that job. Lots of little steps and swings. In fact when I am under the influence of the scything action it is quite difficult for me to call a halt because I am so mesmerized by my physical movements. This is most unusual as this is the only job I do which I can't seem to stop doing when I am doing it. For all the other necessary activities of the day I have a job to start and then keep going.
   But our scythe blade is not long enough. At 45 cms it does not manage the job of cutting young grass. We are going to get a 85 cms blade, and all the kit which comes with it: anvil to beat the blade upon when it gets blunt, (called peening), three types of wet stone, and a nifty water carrier which is put on one's belt and in which one carries the wet stone of choice so the blade can be sharpened (honed) when one is out on the field scything. I am still a novice at scything, but it is a fantastic way of getting fit.

Ah well, better go check up on Maxy and see how many of those four new hens are still here. Hope you are well. Bye for now.