The Gang's here!!

They came two by two: two one day, two the following day. Not expected, but dropped off by a friend, 'Because they are getting on my husband's nerves' she said. 

I took one look at them and thought, 'Oh dear'. And you know when your instincts speak loud and clear? Well that is what mine did as I observed the mottley crew. 'Trouble'. That is what my instincts told me. 

And here they are:

Chickens! There are four, but one is being stood on by the Bareneck Chicken (the fawn coloured one). They will be let lose soon, once they have got their heads together about being moved. I treat the days before this happens with  much joy. Once they are out and about,  hooliganism will hit Labartere. They already chatter endlessly about their intended adventures, building plans of campaigns I suspect. 

And bless Hubs / Head Chicken Keeper. He recycled the pig arc to make them a temporary house:

Right outside the bedroom caravan, under the fig tree. If the cockerel should get his act together (three hens one cockerel) and start crowing at unreasonable hours it shouldn't be too difficult to lob something at him from our bed. At the moment he seems to have become de-feathered, and looks a bit nudey. Will have a hunt on Google to see why this is. Actually, there doesn't seem to be much of the 'cock' about him at the moment. Perhaps he is waiting for his testosterone to kick in and make a 'man' of him. 

Anyway, in the renovated pig arc The Gang will stay for a week or so, and then they will be let out. Bools and Gus have to get used to them being around. Last time Gus came across our neighbour's chickens he sat on one. Not sure that he knew what he had to do with it once he had caught it. But at least he didn't kill it. 

Veg Plot Project:

Yippee! The recent rain has enabled the Tamworths to start digging in earnest in their plot, which is to be next years veg plot. On passing their patch earlier on today, Tess was snoozing away in their hut, but Max was sprawled out along a furrow he had been working on. Obviously it had tired him, because it looked like he had collapsed on the job. 

And an idea has been posted by Hubs, that to help with the expense of feeding them, that it would be a good idea to partake of the acorn harvest soon to come from the many oak trees both on our property and in the surrounding woods. Great idea. But I suspect it will be another 'idea' which is slid over to me to put into practice. Ah well. Bools and Gus will enjoy being out and about while I wild forage. 

The Veg Plot proper has just fetched up a good harvest of potatoes:

Bools looking a bit p*****d off because he thought he was going on a dog walk, and  thinks it a waste of his time to be involved in a photo shoot of the potato harvest! The Veg Plot itself has gone tatty. Planted rows of seeds, but a lot didn't come up this year, I think because the weather has been so topsy turvey. Yesterday it felt as if we had skipped into late Autumn, because it has turned chilly and autumnal, so the plants must be confused. Anyway, now Le Tracteur is here, Hubs / Farmer In Chief, is going to plough up the Back Field and put it into crops, mostly to feed our animals, in particular, the pigs. We reckon that they eat about 2kg each per day, which at the moment is made up of purchased grain and food from the kitchen. 

Menu de Jour:

Potatoes (cooked, battered ones from the harvest). Pasta (left over from lunch). Lettuce (bolted). Beetroot tops. Carrot tops. Figs ( squishy ones from jam making). Carrots (mouldy ones left in a bag). Courgette (donated by neighbour). Tomatoes (inside core). Tin of Coeurs de Palmiers (thought I would try them and - yuk!) Gravy ( cold and  gone stodgy). Plums (tops of, after prepping for jam). Avocado skin ( from starter at lunch time). Bread (end of, too hard and does my teeth in!). Mushrooms. (Were supposed to be for Breaded Mushrooms, but carton had gone off)

This, then, is what the Tess and Max can eat in one sitting. Most of that which I have listed are bits and pieces which would have landed up on the compost heap, there to be recycled by the crows, magpies, Bools, Gus, and assorted other wild life, but the bulk would be the potatoes. So next year, to decrease the amount of bought in grain, we have to increase the vegetable material we grow here. Phew! That's going to be a task and a half! But John Seymour, the smallholder's guru, says it can be done, so we will have a go. 

And that's that for today, friends. Oh, the river beach is back, which I think I mentioned the other day, although has been temporarily flooded over again by the rising of the river water after the recent rains. But in a couple of days time it will be dry enough to enjoy again. This is taken from the bridge. All the vegetation to the right is our woodland, and the beach joins our land so I can walk out onto it. If you would like to come sit and enjoy the river with me, then please feel free to do so......Otherwise, sending you the piecefulness which it most times has - when the cars aren't whizzing over the bridge, and the young boys aren't racing around on their buzz bikes or splashing about in the water, which is actually quite large chunks of time.

Another house on the plot

And this is Tess coming to say hi, having had a glorious soak in the wallow, but not much mud adhering to her today as she has been busy in and out of her mud bath. Max, meanwhile, has pole position in the wallow, which he will not give up unless Tess jams herself down beside him with such force that he has to shift over to make room for her. Since she is bigger than him, she will win the day. However, he is likely to try and maintain his position, which will give rise to squeals of outrage from her at his selfishness. I kid you not, when that squeal erupts from her you would think all hell has been let lose.

As I say, not much mud on her today, nor on Max. Normally they are so plastered that they can hardly see from out of their eyes and Hubs /Head Pig Carer, has to clean them up a bit so they can see properly. But they have to do this because of the flies and other insects which frequently bother them. And it has been a tough couple of weeks for the two of them after Tess had her hissy fit with the original pig house. Oh I know that it was not quite big enough to fit the pair of them in it, but Max could have been less protective of his space and let her go in it occasionally. Which he might have done if she had not decided to use the pig arc as a tank to ram the fence on her first full day here. 

 So they have been camping out under the stars. Fortunately the weather has been kind, giving Hubs / Chief Builder, time to get their new house sorted out. 

Bless him, this is first proper build, done without any help from anyone else except Moi / General Go-For.

Max also likes to help. At this particular moment we are trying to get the electric fencing sorted out again, after having to resite elements of it to accomodate the new house. 

Tess also was unable to remain aloof to the electric fence work, by which time Hubs had his own hissy fit at the pair of them. Sometimes, just sometimes, they can be like naughty children.  And the electric wire did get into a hell of a tangle with their efforts at helping us. 

Time to make the bed, with Max helping again.  In goes a bale of straw, nicely fluffed up. 

And in the pair of them go to have an investigation. The first thing they did was to shift the straw so they could have a rummage in the ground below which was bit alarming for Hubs / Chief Site Engineer, because he thought that they were trying to dismantle the fabric of their house. But no. It was just a quick look to see if there were any tasty roots in the ground to nibble on. 

And here is the new house on the plot. Built entirely by Hubs, and looking, quite rightly, proud of himself. By the way, the long bars seeming to sit on top of the the hut are the road bridge railings. And those Tams have so fallen in love with their new house that they are ever hardly out of it. Which is good, since the window of good weather was just sufficient to get the house done. It has been cold and wet ever since, and it would have played on our nerves to think about the two of them without any shelter. 

And do you know that Tams snore? Well they do. They zizz away the same as the rest of us. I often tiptoe over to their place to have a look-see through the air openings, and there they are, having made nests in the straw, snug as anything and snoring away, with their noses in the straw so the flies can't bother them. Aw. 

And here are the two homes, the Tams and ours. Eventually there will be a farmyard effect on this field, with a housing estate of other little homes of various shapes and sizes to house other animals. In the back of our house will be a door leading into the 'Kitchen '/ Builder's Storage Depote so that we can commute more easily to and fro our animals. We have a long way to go. But as the saying goes: A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step!

Things I have learnt: That when trying to re wire an electric fence, it is best to keep the wire the other side of the fence as this is being done. Especially if one has two Tamworths. Who will be only to willing to interfere. And make a tangle. Which will therefore test one's patience no end. 

That other animals snore as well. And need a bed to rest in. 

And a quick note: My blessings to Barry, a fellow blogger, who recently passed away with cancer. May God be with you, my friend, and thankyou for sharing your life travels right up to the very end. x

The Orange Thingumyjig

It was a peaceful afternoon. Then a big rumble was heard. Ah, Ron. Popping in on his way round and about France driving his big transporter. Stirling Trooper Ron, of Ron and Val, both of whom had already helped transport our two caravans to us from various locations, and set them up for us so we could live in them. And now here he was again, come to visit us. And this time he had this:

Le Tracteur, no less. Plus other assorted bits: log cutter, plough, topper. 

So: time for a cuppa. 'Twas hot. All were sweaty. But excitement was in the air, so no time to linger. The tractor was woken up from its nap under the oak tree, and out into the Side Field Ron drove it. 

Man Pow-wow time:

This lever does this, that button does that, those pedals do  this, that, and the other. Le Tracteur was started and off Ron sent Lester. Round the perimeter of the field at a gentle chug-chug he went, with a grin a mile wide on his face. 

Oh, and by the way, this is the field in which the Dock Wars are still in motion. You can see their front line in the background. The ground I have won is the green bit. 

And then Ron got on board Le Tracteur and had a run up and down himself. With great enthusiasm written all over his face he ploughed through a line of dock weeds. Lester had already done quite a trim. A problem: the field would have been entirely cut of all dock weeds, judging by the enthusiasm which these two tractor drivers were showing towards the task of cutting them down. But then, all those millions of seeds would have been put into the ground. And I felt a fear that this should happen. That by cutting them down, they were winning the day. 

So I did stop those two men. Said "Enough, come inside for something to eat". It worked. The remaining docks, of which there are thousands, still stand tall. Most of the seed is still on them, apart from a small percentage which stick to the fleece of the sheep when they push through them. I suspect that next year, when the fleece is cut, that when I start working on the fleece to spin it, that I will be having to get those damn seeds from out amongst the fibres of the fleece. 

And so I continue to manually cut those docks down, putting them into big bags which are then carried out into the back where they are burned. No-one can understand why I do this. Sometimes I can't either. But my instinct says that if it is not done that the field will be lost. That the docks will hold full sway over the grass. 

So: The plan is that I cut them down, then hand the field over to Tractor Driver Hubs so that he can then use his machine to keep all vegetative growth to nine inches, which according to John Seymour, the guru for all smallholders, is the right height of grass. This should also stop the onrush of the docks, because they will be kept clipped so that they can't send up large seed heads ever again. Oh I know that they will still try, even perhaps managing to get some small sprouts to flower, but they will be tiny and therefore not a threat to the overall welfare of the field. 

Therefore, Trainee Tractor Driver Hubs has to practice for the day when he has management of the Side Field. 

A trial run in the Back Field, which he has been mowing with an ancient petrol lawnmower. It was a nervous time. Would Le Tracteur start? Would he manage the plethora of knobs and things? Would he mow down the young fruit trees? Would he fetch up in the river?

And here he is. One very happy man, trundling off into the distance, mowing his first field, enjoying being a Farmer Man. It was grand day for him. It was a grand day for me as well because he also managed to cut a wide path almost down to the river so it is easier for me to reach the mewly emerging river beach. 

Things I have learnt: that the Universe will provide you with what you need, even if you have to then find the money to pay for what is provided! That there are some very special people around in this world: immeasurable thanks to Ron (and Val).