Making Your Own Traditions....Camilla.....and the Baby Jesus

Sorrel leaves today. It has become a little bit of a tradition that I take her to the train. It is also a little tradition of mine to prepare her some sandwiches and cake to eat on the journey back to Kent.
A Lunch wrapped in brown paper, tied up with string.
It's a silly little tradition, but there it is, fixed and unchanging over the years that we have known each other.
On the home front, thoughts are turning to babies

Camilla the Canada Goose has now taken up residence in the duck house and with a bit of help from me, now has a large collection of eggs laid by her and the other geese on which she will finally settle.
At the moment she spends much of her time patrolling her borders,hissing gently at passing hens, only disappearing into her chalet from time to time to rearrange her eggs.
She is the sweetest of creatures.

And that leaves me to tell you about The Baby Jesus. Remember him?
Well the single chick that hatched on Easter Sunday is doing fine and is the apple of his mother's eye

Mothers and sons eh?

Goose Gone

For those that don't know, I have four geese living in the Ukrainian village and they make for a tight knit little flock of which I am exceedingly fond.
A few years ago now , I bought two goose eggs from ebay and incubated both successfully in the garden shed. Over a period of two days both hatched with some difficulty, and although one grey gosling injured her ŵing during the hatching process both babies thrived.
I named them Winnie and Jo.
A year or so later Camilla arrived all the way from Kent . She was found abandoned  and was considered to be a rather large and ungainly duckling. Camilla , as it turned out grew into a beautiful Canada goose.
The only gander in the group was another waif. He was rather a sad character who had been bullied by a larger and more aggressive male in the back garden of a chap from a nearby town. He arrived sat quietly inside a sports bag and has remained a gentle little soul ever since.
I called him Russell.
The group of four are noisy but for geese, incredibly good natured birds.

Jo, vocal and distant again this morning

Last night Jo went missing, at locking up time . The three other geese stood quietly at the goose house door and called for her but there was no answer from the field or from the livery stables beyond. I searched the hedges and nettle patches for her, just in case she had made herself a nest, but I knew nesting time is now over.
I mooched for over an hour but there was no sign of her and I could feel my bottom lip quiver just a bit when I gave up the search.
I finally went to bed after midnight but couldn't settle so I put on my head touch marshalled Winnie and William ( George was asleep in bed) and went out on the field then down the lane  to look for her.
We walked a few hundred yards to the Felin, at the bottom of the little valley behind the cottage and from a good distance by the old Mill house , I could see two eyes reflecting one after another in the light of my torch from the tall grass at the side of the road.

I called and recieved a small honk back .
It was bleeding like the final scene of Lassie Come home .

I carried Jo all the way back to the field , and it was the first time she had let me touch her since she was a gosling. She sat still and well behaved tucked firmly up underneath my arm
I've said it before and no doubt I will say it again......
But these animals will be the effin death of me

Pastures New

This morning I recieved an email from a smallholder from Gwynedd . He told me that Camilla Parker Bowles and her " sisters" were doing very well indeed.
The email was a welcomed one, but it did twang the heart strings just a little.

Several weeks ago the geese left the Ukrainian village for pastures new.
I didn't blog about this fact , for it was rather a sad time.

It was a hard decision to make, but with the hens' removal to the safety of barn life and under the shadow of avian flu I finally made the decision that the geese had to be found a new home.
And I wanted total control over this change.
This year I retire from work. The Prof's work could and probably will change to pastures new and we also have the opportunity to travel a little more, and so I wanted the girls on a farm with care 24/7.
I " interviewed" several interested parties and eventually chose a small holder from the back-and-beyond in deepest Wales. He is an interesting character as he is good with animals and fairly poor with people.
He was also as poor as a church mouse,as it was evident that his income went on animal care and not designer clothing!
It was this quiet dedication that allowed me to make that final decision.
Now Camilla has the space to fly without risks of crash landing on the nearest bin lorry. The group now have a safe haven with a pond and a new owner who only leaves the farm to to the weeks' shopping.

I still miss the geese but I am so happy they are settled in their new home.
Was it actually seven years ago when they arrived?

Tantrums of a pig

I feel I have neglected the animals just a little this week.
Brother's house, old friend's reunion, Manchester, Work all day yesterday and work tonight.....it all feels as though I have not been around here....mentally and physically....and that feels a little odd.


Despite some dreadful weather, I decided to spend a little time in the field, and It was lovely to forget the badness of last week, even though I have been soaked to the skin.

Margie .throwing a strop worthy of Violet Elizabeth Bott

My first stop was the pig pen.
The only reason I chose them first was that I could sit inside their shed out of the rain, so after pouring some pig nuts onto the earth I made myself comfortable on the floor of the hut.
BIG MISTAKE!
No 12 and Margie ( the former 21) bounced over like a couple of overgrown puppies and started to stuff their fat faces on the pig food, but as number 12 is now a huge boar and not the timid little piglet we first got to know and love, competition between the pigs was bound to lead to conflict .
Every time Margie tried to take more that number 12 thought she was entitled to, he would knock her out of the way with a sharp nudge of his snout.
After four or five of these rebukes, Margie literally stopped dead squinting her sharp little piggy eyes at number 12  and with murder obviously in mind, she stamped her little trotters like a two year old madam , then proceeded on what can only be described as a mother of all temper tantrums.
Squealing like ( well.... like a pig)...she bounced around the enclosure biting at plants, fencing and her water bucket with a savagery which was just a little frightening and not content with biting at inanimate objects, Margie hurled herself into the shed, stamped her trotters again and took a mouthful of my pants firmly in her mouth and shook me like a dog.

I acted quickly and slapped her hard, which seemed to stop her hysterical tantrum for a second, but then, after looking at me in astonishment for a moment, she let out another scream and ran out into the enclosure for yet another performance......
All the while number 12 remained calm and unruffled.......
We have brought up a monster!

Camilla and Badger are slowly letting nature separate them (although having said this, every night they still share the same house)....Daytimes Camilla follows the bigger girls devotedly, trying to ingratiate herself into their good books. The older geese are not ready to accept her fully, but I have noticed that they are more comfortable in the presence of a prettier and more graceful  companion. By the autumn I hope that the four geese will be sharing the goose house together......

and talking of sharing- the rather knackered Phyllis Diller (centre) and Jane( the araucana) are still comfortable in their own little nunnery, away from the advances of the miniature cockerels and  bullying from the bog standard hybrids.
Phyllis is actually losing more feathers......and has a physique only a mother could love....


Are ANY of my animals normal?
answers on a postcard...please!

Born Free?

Click the video before reading this blog!

Now I think it is fallacy that animals do not look up into the sky......true they don't generally day dream when cloud watching, but when there is something of interest to note ( a buzzard, a sparrow hawk etc) the field protectors such as the cockerels will look up and growl a warning to the rest of the flock.
William, on occasion has been seen sitting calmly watching a passing low plane with benign interest, and this morning I spied Camilla arching her graceful head up into the air, seemingly fascinated with something far away in the heavens.
I stopped what I was doing and followed her gaze, and there flying in an untidy "V" way out above the Gop was a flock of wild geese.
The breeze carried their cries down over Trelawnyd, and gently Camilla honked back, flapping her wings wide and bowing her head low then upwards again, her eyes never leaving the V as it ebbed and flowed across the clouds


For an awful moment I thought she would try and join them.


But then good, old dependable  Winnie ambled up beside her,
she also bowed and arched her head in acknowledgement of the interlopers, but did so rather half heartedly, and within seconds the two geese relaxed and started to graze the grass again quietly and without fuss.
...and I let out a small sigh of relief

According to Diane...........

Humn on reflection?

It's only a quick blog today I have been extra busy and have not even had my usual ' breakfast blog moment' with a cup of milicarno as yet : the wind has demolished the duck house during the morning, which gave the hysterical runners something else to get their slimlined knickers in a twist about and

I have spent most of the morning repairing it, then had to go down to Prestatyn to walk my sister's dog before walking my own in between preparing supper and retrieving Camilla from the riding stables field yet again.

The gale force wind has unsettled her, even though her dreadful crash landing of yesterday has not quite put her off from spreading her wings, so to speak. I wouldn't mind as much if she had the sense to fly back home.... But she's a classy Canadian gal ( like so many are) and prefers to be carried back home, wrapped in an old woollen overcoat.

Anyhow I have 2 minutes or so before I go out to meet my sister in law, so just have enough time to thank Diane over at HEART SHAPED for her kind, " I think you actually look like Russell Crowe from Les Misérables" comment from yesterday's blog. It did tickle me somewhat.......even though his face nowadays does have the look of a couple of fat birds wrestling under a duvet

(Listen I'll the take the compliment in the spirit it was given)

It also got me to thinking just who do others 'here' resemble from the world of celebrity ? Now I know I have mused a little about this before..as we have already debated that Tom Stephenson is the spit of John Hurt with a hangover...but who do YOU think you look like?

I would be interested to know

Anyhow, I am already late...I have not had time to even wash my face, so disguising the awful windswept hairstyle with a hat and covering up the spilled coffee stains down my front with the same coat I wrapped camilla in.... I am off out

god I'm a classy date

RUSS CROWE eat your aussie heart out

The Field

 Yesterday, I sort of threw away a comment that I had decided not to carry on with leasing the field.

I didn’t mean for it to sound dismissive.

It was just time for it to go.

Once, a few years ago now the field was filled with the chatter and movement of animals, activity surrounding four large allotment beds crammed with neat rows of vegetables, fruit bushes and the like.

The Ukrainian Village housed nearly 100 hens in one summer, with satellite houses providing a home for the dim hysterical Runner ducks, a gaggle of geese and the slow moving, delightfully morose turkeys who glided around the paddock like galleons in full sail.

Four pigs lived in the sty in the corner triangle right at the bottom of the field and up in the Ash trees on the Church borders came the noisy chatter of the guinea fowl who serenaded the entire village every morning and every dusk for years and years and years.

The Open Allotment days eventually turned into a successful  village fete with a giant marquee housing, Sylvia and Irene’s famous table busting cake sale ( over 100 homemade cakes donated from the village ladies) and the Name the pig, save the pig Competition  raised hundreds of pounds towards the Church Fund and  The Motor Neurone Association 

I’ve had a wander down memory Lane this morning and have picked out a few photographic memories to share with you all today. 

Enjoy…..

The Ukrainian Village

The allotment beginnings 

The hysterical runners and young cockerel facing off a strange cat in the field 

The villagers at the open day

My brother doing the raffle whilst he was ill

The villagers at my very first open allotment day

The biggest fete open day

The indomitable Sylvia with her record busting cake tent

Halleh the duck who thought he was a hen

The nasty guinea fowl Angostura, pecking at the gentle Boris

( she was named because I always thought she was bitter)

Hughie, Ivy and Alf who lived for years in the Church trees

camilla Parker Bowles as a gosling

Bingley and gentle old William

The famous Ghost hens, the battery broilers who taught me a great lesson about animal cruelty

The allotment was not only filled with vegetables and animals , great swathes of it was planted out to wild flowers

Jesus, the cockerel that just turned up on Boxing Day

The hysterical runners being hysterical

No 21 the nasty old spot sow and the gentle no 12 the saddleback boar as piglets

Camilla after she had crash landed on the binman’s lorry

The sausages made from the pigs

The field has been a good friend to me

And has been one to the village too

I’m not sad to be letting it go

It’s time

And I have new things to do

Hey ho

The huge blind rooster Cogburn

The original Mary ( the injured wild rabbit in her own hutch)

Late Camilla Update

 Apologies Janice, I forgot to pass on the Camilla is fine after her bin lorry collision , I took this photo of her, Jo and Carol in a frozen Ukrainian village and field this morning . - 6 degrees tonight! Thank goodness we have a new heating system...
Even though the Professor who has a PhD .....cannot figure out yet!

A very cold Irene and Sylvia waiting for their feed this morning

The 4 Tribes Of Trelawnyd

 My sister in law called around yesterday, I had missed our weekly "coffee and cake" meet up as I had fallen asleep in arm chair, warmed into slumber by a blanket of fluffy Welsh Terriers and tired out by that morning's altercation with a trailer trash hag who ruined my morning by trying to bully free petrol out of a teenage petrol pump attendant.

It is just eight weeks since my brother died, but what with Christmas, New Year and the anniversary of his Birthday all part of those two months, his death seems  almost  an age away now.
It's a weird thought....

Andrew at my 2009 Open Allotment Day

 Jayne watched the field for a while after she parked and after hearing all about the blind Rooster Cogburn she watched the hens milling around the gate and said "Everyone of them has a story to tell"....

she seemed surprised...after all hens are only hens........

Just recently I have realised that the hen population  on the field has evolved into four distinct tribes or factions. Three of the four tribes now have their own cockerel leader where the fourth has an alpha female in charge, and each group have chosen to inhabit their own corner of the field.

The Tribe of the West is the most eclectic of the tribes.Led by the diminutive Eric, it comprises of the remaining crackhead whores,  a bullied arucana and her team mate Phylis Diller (Below) and three shy re homed Wellsummers

 The Tribe of the North comprises of all seven of the oldest hens on the field which have been joined by the three of the crackhead whores who arrived bald and damaged from a year's mistreatment by their over randy cockerel . These hens are all now fully re feathered and healthy birds and all three have just started to lay again, a sign of good condition ,  

I have found it rather amusing that the youngest and most inexperienced cockerel, Badger has taken over as leader in this coop. Some readers may remember that he was the single chick that survived a fatal badger attack on his mother last spring and alone and lonely was luckily teamed up with Camilla the gosling when she arrived.

Badger with Camilla

Badger now!

 The Tribe of the East, is the "front of house" group of hens on the field, for their designated area is the most sociable and most visual to anyone passing by in the lane. Subsequently the hens in this tribe are the most confident and the most pushy, for they are the ones that always benefit from scraps and bread donated by villagers.

Stanley, the old cockerel, interestingly enough has moved hen houses with his trusty white guinea fowl, Angostura in tow, to "take charge" of the Tribe of the East. which comprises of seven re homed orpingtons and a large group of bog standard red hens that arrived last year after being mistreated by their owner.

The last distinct group on the field is the Tribe of the South. This is a rag tag group of geeks, shy saddos and lonely hens.from three coops, who like to hide away from the hustle and bustle of daily life.They always remind me of those kids at school that never played with anyone at break time, you remember the ones?, the kids that read their books on the periphery of the action, wanting to join in but not having the confidence to do so

Their "leader" is Lillian, a white hefty Orpington, who enjoys peace ,quiet and periods of warm sunshine.....it is not a coincidence that their part of the field remains in the sun for the majority of the day

Lilliam.....a gal not to be messed with

 ......yeap Jayne was right...... every hen has a story.......

Tits Up

 I had a lot to complete today....bitty, insignificent jobs for sure, but they were ones that needed doing.
Unsurprisingly almost every job went tits up, albeit in a small way........this is the way of the world

Camilla looking mighty pissed off

 Firstly I was badly bitten on the arse cheeks by one of the geese when I was removing an egg from under a rather disgruntled Camilla Parker Bowles. She is far too well bred to nip me herself ( the worst thing she will ever do is to gently hiss at me)but her housemate Jo, isn't and it was Jo that crept up on me and my builder's crack in order to give me a good seeing to.

After this I picked up George from the pet superstore groomers and he pissed like a horse up the glass of the guinea pig enclosure on the way out.
He's ten today too, so as a birthday gift the groomer manager gave him a wrapped bag of small dog biscuits....more about them later!

We then drove to tesco in order to return a carpet cleaner I had hired but I had forgotten the code of the door lock of the stand it came from and couldn't therefore put the bloody thing back. The
supermarket was very helpful even though it was a different company who ran the stall and they allowed me to use their phone to finally locate someone in customer services to help me but I was all hot and bothered by the time I had got rid of the soddin machine.

I was good however and didn't succumb to an emergency scotch egg in order to calm my nerves but I did buy  George a small packet of garlic sausage he could eat in the car before I went to the Nat West to do some banking for the Prof.

There was a long queue at the bank so I thought I would fill in the cheque stub while I waited, so I pulled the cheque book out of my overstuffed pockets and promptly pulled the bag of dog goodies out  scattering the lot all over the floor!
The queue did one of those typically British things and ohhhhhhed and arrrhhhhhhed a lot as I went very red but at least one man and a middle aged woman started to help me pick them up as another younger woman said to her toddler son " oooohh the man's dropped all his sweeties!"
The toddler promptly picked up the nearest " sweetie" and horrified,  I yelled rather too theatrically
" THEY'RE DOG BUISCUITS!!!!!!!!" at the mother just incase the little sod tried to eat one
This initiated another set of ooooohh's and arrrhhhhh's from the queue!

 

George looking very smart, he's ten today!

This afternoon I have pruned the honeysuckle from around the front door and fell off the garden chair I was using as a ladder when the postman arrived with a package.

" You've got to be careful with D I Y ," he said helpfully " more people are killed in falls at home every year than they are on the roads! " 

I scowled....but he carried on chearfully 

"Another pressie from one of your blog fans?" He said handing over the parcel 

As it turned out the parcel was filled to the gunnels with homemade hearts...a gift from my father in law's friend June, who made them for me to sell at the flower show......a very kind gesture.......

Thank you june 

 One of the nicer things to happen to me today 

Hey ho

Dirty Monday

Monday is a " dirty day"
It's the day I clean out the duck and the goose house.
A foul job if ever there was one.
I am bathing the dogs today too which is another grotty job.
Waterfowl and terriers.......mucky little buggers.
Well I can't beat yesterday's blog entry so I will leave you with a photo of Camilla Parker Bowles and Jo ( both of whom have a habit of following me when I clean ) and a brief snippet of " news" which amused me this morning.

When I walked around Bron Haul with the dogs I spied a British Teliccom engineer leaving one of the pensioner bungalows. Apparantly he was fixing problems caused by the recent electrical storm we had recently . Olwen Dilworth came out of her bungalow and called
" I'm not paying 120 Pounds!" she sang out sweetly
" There's nothing wrong with my box!"
Well it amused me

Camilla P.B and Jo

And I'll leave you with this little thought

Off for a bath