I didn't sleep well at all last night. Every hour or so I was awake listening for the chatter of the guinea fowl, but of course there was no early warnings and of course the fox was kept safely out of the little knot of coops on the field. I found another uneaten corpse yesterday afternoon, hidden under the snow, so the death toll officially was 8 birds dead with only one survivor, Rose.who got away without a scratch. Early this morning as I was returning to the cottage I saw a neighbour, Joanne walking by with her large dogs, before I waved I was stopped by her expression, and I just knew that her father,(another close neighbour of ours who had been unwell for quite some time) had died. There is something quite distinctive that passes over someones face when they are suffering from grief. I had witnessed it time and time again at work and indeed personally, and I can only describe the physical manifestation as a sort of "crumpling" of the features, when the face kind of disappears in on itself. It is aways an expression that pulls a person up short!I had a few words with Joanne and said sincere but usual platitudes of support, but as always at these times, there is very little one can actually do to be of any help.
Later I would drop off some flowers and a card to Joanne and her mother Pat, a gesture that would be mirrored tenfold, I am sure, by other neighbours from the village over the next day or so.Today I have popped into Prestatyn to do some banking, then I collected more feed before walking the dogs on the gop. As I returned home I spotted a man at nearby bungalow, which is situated a couple of fields away from my field. I know the chap has hens so I called in to introduce myself and to warn him that a fox was around.He was friendly and chatty and thanked me for the warning but informed me that the fox already had snatched several of his hens and a cockerel over the past few days.Seeing that he had lost his cockerel, I immediately offered him Jesus, the smart male that had been abandoned with us on Boxing day and pleased as punch he agreed to pick him up next week...which was a nice result and conclusion to a miserable day or so.Chris is working away tonight in ManchesterI am due an early night me thinks
The biggest threat to poultry is a stupid and careless keeper.Last night I broke the golden rule of hen keeping. I overlooked the shutting of one of the poultry coop doors.This morning,after I fed the pigs in the newly settled snow, I turned to see my largest coop's door open to the elements. I couldn't quite believe it, as I am fastidious in my routine of shutting the stock up for the night, but there it was , an open door and an empty coop.I looked around; there was no blood, feathers or any signs of trauma, but all 8 hens had gone.It didn't take long to find them, well I found five dead birds and one living hen ( a hybrid called Rose). She was cold , but unhurt under one of the coops further up the field, the five others were decapitated and scattered in the snow by the perimeter fencing.The situation was clear, a fox had taken the opportunity I had stupidly given it, and had killed the lot.I am so angry and upset with myself.When it comes to my animals I am not at all slap dash, but I and I alone had put the hens in direct danger from a predator who would do the most damage.The hens killed included Jessop and her sister, the two young buffs, Bill the handsome black rock cockerel and four other young birds who I raised from chicks last year. All of the hens had only started laying properly since our last fall of snow.
First the badger kills the guinea fowl, now a fox with my assistance, kills my hens.I feel as though I have let the field population and myself down.
I am writing this blog entry on my break..intensive care is quiet (at the moment) with all the patients sedated and ventilated, so all you can hear is the faint "hiss" of suction and oxygen and the gentle "push push" of the ventilators breathing for their charges.
The sound can be rather soothing, especially when the alarms of the fukuda monitors don't go off, and the peace of this evening is rare and appreciated...
generally the unit is fraught and noisy, and after an 11 hour shift all I crave is the quietness of the field and the howling of the wind in the trees.......
lets hope the rest of the night remains as silent as it is now......
I have not had a great deal of time to do very much today. Just enough time to complete the supermarket shop, spend another 60£ at the vets for flea treatments for the dogs and Albert as well antibiotics for William and supervise a brief but welcomed visit by cousin Carol and her hubby Ken, who brought a huge pile of treats up for the animals.Working tonight, here's hoping for a quiet night on intensive care....yeah right!ps
I love this photo.....Working for 17 years on a Spinal Injuries unit, I was always reminded that nothing is impossible to be attempted after paralysis has initially devastated peoples' lives...This photograph embodies that living spirit, I observed in patients time and time and time again....On reflection ( and you will need to read the previous post) it is this strength of ordinary people that I do miss from my Sheffield work days.
The first of my huge allotment beds has been dug over and manured today, and I feel as though I have turned the corner in starting to clear up the damage, and untidiness of winter.As I have worked I have thought about something that blog reader Jim wrote on yesterday's blog; he stated:"I must say John, I am jealous of how you live. Though not glamorous, it seems to
have a charm, and be charmed"
In many ways I agree with what Jim said, but I must admit the change from living in a Yorkshire City with a charm and personality all of its own to entering a small and in someways closed village community was not always the easy one that I may hint to in my sometimes overly fluffy bunny blog.Believe it or not, I never really had an overwhelming urge to live in the country. Chris did, and was always quite vociferous about it, but I was always happy living and working in Sheffield. I had reached my objectives career-wise, and had experienced the highs (and lows) of running my own ward, and our social life was busy, varied and supportive....so when and why did it all change?Well I got to thinking about this today, as I indulged myself in the repetitive dig-turn, dig-turn of the allotment clearing, and, as so often is the case with large life changing decisions, it was a series of "small" events that precipitated my change of mind.As a ward manager, I witnessed changes within the Hospital trust that I had difficulty "selling" to my staff. Corporate loyalty was stretched to the limit sometimes, and quality of care was always demanded but sometimes was difficult to attain with job freezes, audit needs, and the "hands tied" rules of job's worth policy, HR demands and clinical protocols.Colleagues that had been friends for years left the service through one reason and another, and this left managers like myself more and more isolated, as our "touchstones" and like minded professionals disappeared.I left the Spinal Injury unit, still loving my job, but being realistic enough to understand that things would not always be the same, an event that I think is not unique in middle aged men who are questioning their lives. Chris' wish to live in the country, gave me the springboard to try something new after 17 years, and I thought "why the hell not!"...without giving the reality of rural Welsh life a proper in depth thought
At first my energy of the move went into the two cottages that we bought. Our first cottage and weekend holiday home had to be sold and a new property sought and sorted!During our first year here, building work needed organising,decorating needed to be done and a whole garden needed to be built and designed. I was happy at doing all this, as it gave me a focus and a goal, which took over from my old work responsibilities, but after the initial adrenaline rush of hiring and firing, I was left with a slight "dip" of "what now?"And so the animals started to arrive!In drips and drabs, more dogs galloped into our lives, a couple of pure breed hens lived in the garden which was only the start of things to come, and the excitement of feeling responsible for a group of little beings instead of 50 staff members started to fill all of the gaps for me.The animals and the accompanying allotments opened up relationships within the village community and I learnt to socialize more with the locals and with village groups which was a new thing for me. Friends were made, and roots laid down in community events and in a space of another year Trelawnyd became "home" in the truest sense of the word.....sounds easy eh? ....not always.......to be sure.....and I so still miss Sheffield and my friends there ( but strangely not my previous manager's position)..yet, on reflection,blogger Jim was right, I know I lead a charmed (though not glamorous) life
Most of my day has centred around scraping manure and slurry from the pig enclosure into impressive piles of fertilizer next to the allotments. Not an exciting day, nor a particularly interesting one, but these stinky jobs need to be completed.The one positive thing about all this repetitive work is the fact I have had an opportunity of watching the newly formed turkey flock from close quarters, and what an entertaining little bunch they are too.The four youngsters (now sexed as 2 stags and 2 hens) are robust, mischievous, bright and greedy birds who spend long periods jousting and larking around like teenage boys after school.Out of nowhere, one will take a fancy to start an odd looking kind of skipping movement, and suddenly all four are gambolling in crazy circles, wildly flapping their great big wings like idiots.
This "crazy" behaviour carried on throughout the day, albeit in short bursts; and the rest of the time, the four turkeys indulge in their other passion, namely eating.Every time I venture into the feed shed for something 8 huge black soulful eyes zoom onto my movements and the babies start calling and gobbling excitedly, bouncing up and down as if shouting "Me!!!me!!!!me!!!me!!!"Call me a softie, but I always succumb to this blatant and hammy begging, and the turkeys know it...and as always they get offered a large handful of corn or wheat, which they bolt down within seconds . No wonder they now resemble four brown feathery barrels! and no wonder I am going through a sack of corn a week!
note their beaks, sharp and painful if they accidently peck you during a feeding frenzy...I should have clipped them short when they were poults
