When Geese Attack

There is a feral cat that lives some where in the Graveyard. He is a nasty big bugger, who effortlessly survives by killing rabbits along the field borders. He causes me no real problems with the birds but poor Albert has been ambushed quite a few times now by the meaner and larger animal.
The last assault came late one night when the tom bushwhacked Albert right outside the back door. Albert's plaintive howling galvanised every dog to come to his rescue and all of them shot outside barking the cat away. like a pack of wolves.
This morning, the cat was back. I saw him first thing, slinking around the long grass by the farthest coop, and I thought no more about him. The rabbits in the field often crowd the field borders,so I just presumed he was out hunting.
As I was filling the water butts, I saw him flattened out in the grass and it was immediately evident that he was not stalking a rabbit. The object of his attentions was in fact two of the ghost hens who had already eaten and had waddled off behind a tussock of grass to sleep their usual couch potato and slightly helpless, sleep.
Before I could do anything, the geese glided into the scene; with necks extended in anger and fear Winnie and Jo honked and spat at the stranger, and with the three magpie ducks chattering behind them, the five birds effectively out flanked the cat.

Now I have seen the turkeys "face off" a predator before (usually George gets the bum deal) but this was the first time the geese AND the ducks had shown their true metal. Within 20 seconds the bemused cat had retreated towards the church wall and 10 seconds later the angry birds had forced him out of the field, hopefully for good.

I have always found these "little moments of drama" fascinating to watch.

Eyes Wide Open

A gay movie centred around an ultra orthodox Jewish community??? hummmm perhaps I could almost see Tevya and Golde from Fiddler on the Roof worrying about the civil ceremonies of their four husky sons?...then again .......perhaps not.
Tonight Hazel and I went to see the film Eyes Wide Open (Einayim Petukhoth)
It was an interesting if not predictable love story between a married and devot Butcher Aaron
(Zohar Shtrauss) and his student apprentice Ezri (Ran Danker).
The passions of the flesh take over both men over the chopping boards (interestingly Aaron debates with his Rabbi "does sinning bring you closer to god?) and the story takes its inevitable turn when the "modesty squads" from the tight knit community flex their outraged muscles against the two men.
Both Hazel and I found the gay content of the movie much less interesting than the fascinating depiction of an oppressive and claustrophobic religion and community that we know very little about. .....I gave it an interesting but not uplifting 7/10- I think I would have enjoyed a pinker version of "Matchmaker Matchmaker" just a little more............

That's Life

I am finding myself writing a blog that mirrors that bloody awful 1970's tv series That's Life!
Yesterday I had a romp through the subject of grief and today I am going to concentrate on tap dancing ducklings and rude vegetables...
oh the black and white of the phenomenon of "Going Gently".
This morning the seven ducklings gave me a loud rendition of "There's no business like Show business!" when I went in to feed and clean them. There are two that are noticeable smaller than the others but all seem healthy and I can see no runts or weaklings.

Yesterday I spent a strangely hot day in the allotment. I dug up the first of the salad potatoes watched closely by the geese who pulled gently at my tee shirt when I was bent over the vegetable patch.They stood there with me for a good hour or so
As soon as I found this potato I immediately thought of fellow Blogger the smutty minded Tracey over at http://tracey-craftyscraps.blogspot.com/
I can't believe that I actually photographed it! But photograph it I did.... I suspect it will give her a laugh

The artichokes are growing beautifully in the bottom vegetable bed (I have never grown them before) I wonder if someone out there can tell me when I can actually tell when they are ripe and ready to eat?

and my chili plant is laden with ripening chillies

and let's not forget my marrows

From today I am back on weight watchers (I had difficulty cocking my leg over the pig fencing in the turkey run yesterday...and actually broke wind loudly when I did so!" (much to the shocked amusement of the postman who was on the other side of the hedge).....Being middle aged means that the odd extra piece of bread or added potato shoots directly onto my midriff and the battle of the bulge will now be a lifelong battle rather than a one off success at fat fighters!

......the only incentives I need, is to be in control of my flatulence in public! and to be able to cram my arse into my newest pair of combat pants!

tee hee.....and

hey ho

Some thoughts on grief

I have been sorting through some of the allotment vegetables this morning and have been preparing shallots for pickling. Repetitive tasks allow the mind to wander somewhat, and I have found myself thinking a little about grief.
Now, I am not being morbid here, it is just that one of my friends has just lost his father to cancer and I have recently perused Dia's somewhat interesting blog which is centred around the taboo subjects of death and dying (http://acuriouscure.wordpress.com/ )

I am no stranger to death. Intensive care is not all about the high tech saving of lives. many,many people are admitted to us with completely clapped out old bodies that have no reserves to fight the conditions that assault them. In other words, they are dying.

Some say that admission to us , for many is inappropriate.....I am not getting into that debate, but what I will say that for the majority of dying patients, the one to one nursing ratio on intensive care affords them and their families a better chance for individualised and appropriate end of life care.

I have witnessed immensely moving scenes of grief and I have seen the absurd. The "British" stiff upper lip , the screaming, the crying, the anger and the simply lost and numb, every situation is different and needs careful and mature care....it is a role that I am used to, and it is a role that has perhaps , in the past masked my own experiences of grief.

My father died back in 1990 from a sudden heart attack a month or so after one of my best friend's died in a terrible plane crash and my mother died seven years ago from a sudden exacerbation of a long standing respiratory condition. In all of these cases my various levels and experiences of grief I suspect were dampened by my need to be the "nurse" within the family group. On reflection I know I didn't really bury my grief to a place that would cause me later psychological pain and suffering, I just think that my nursing background prepared me for the health care based experiences I went through.

Having said all this, I have suffered a sudden and devastating grief reaction which came out of the blue and which effortlessly sideswiped all of my known nursing defences. My first dog Finlay, died at the age of 5 back in 2007 and I think I was wholly unprepared for the depth of my grief for a "mere" animal when I had effectively sailed through the grief I felt for my own parents.

My feelings shocked me, but in retrospect I am so glad that they did catch me unawares......for the emotions I felt were pure and uncluttered by the complicated and lengthy relationships we have with our dysfunctional mothers and fathers.

Human relationships with animals are often cleanly defined and accepted. Psychological baggage is just not present and the clarity of affection is well accepted by all.....This honesty is perhaps one of the reasons why animals are such a part of my life.

Sometimes it is not always a good thing being the nurse.

The Illusionist (L'Illusionniste) (2010),

Chris and Janet are not due back until well after 11pm, so I treated myself to a jaunt to the Scala
Seven years ago I fell in love with Slyvian Chomet's French animation movie Belleville Rendez-vous. It was quirky, uplifting and had an elderly heroine with a personality and deadpan humour to die for.
Chomet's latest animated feature (The Illusionist (L'Illusionniste) is a very different kettle of fish. It is a sombre , melancholy and at times rather beautiful tale of loneliness and the inevitability of change as experienced by a french illusionist in 1959 Scotland ( of all places!)
The unnamed magician ( picture Jacques Tati crossed with an aged James Stewart) befriends a young girl called Alice in a tiny Scottish village. They forge a platonic relationship before moving to Edinburgh where Alice out grows her benefactor, whose employment and that of other variety artists are on the wane.
I must admit, I did miss the humour and warmth of Belleville Rendezvous (who indeed would not), but having said this the visual depiction of a vintage Edinburgh is so lovingly created in this movie .- The swooping overhead shot of a misty,surreal city at night literally takes your breath away- I can forgive the movie that tiny flicker of warmth and heart
8/10

Silence is golden (finding Ivy & Duckling update)

The one thing about dogs that I do like is that they cannot talk in the mornings.

I have never been a "chatty" person first thing and need time to come round.......so this morning's row was inevitable as Chris did his best Brian Blessed impersonation before it was time for me to get up to take him and my sister to the railway station.

I heard him banging around, at 6am and in that awful fugue state of being half asleep/half awake I staggered to the bathroom with my nerves jangling.....

Now, as I was sat there in all my glory, the bathroom door opened and Chris started to ask me questions about some receipt he had found in my over night bag!!!

It's dawn!!

I am half asleep!!!

I am sat on the loo!!!

I have had no coffee!!!!!

and he is asking me about a bloody £2 quid receipt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I could have turned into a serial killer!!

After a decade together, he still cannot understand that could rip a small child's arms off if engaged in mindless conversation as soon as I wake............the dogs understand this perfectly well........after their morning walk, they have always picked up on my non verbal communication and retire quietly next to me without fuss, and without noise .

Anyhow I feel more balanced now ( post bagel, coffee, quiet duckling feed and dog walk) Chris disappeared off with my sister to London ( they are having a girly day in the capital and are treating themselves to a matinee of Phantom Of The Opera) There is a tube strike in London today which is a bummer for them, but I know they should have a lovely if not a tiring day.

Me?..........I will be harvesting onions, runner beans, shallots, potatoes and artichokes

...................silently!

Last Night I found Ivy the guinea fowl (left). She was sitting on a huge mound of eggs on top of the Church wall and she blended in perfectly with the undergrowth and nettles which surrounded her. With difficulty I shooed her off the nest and with a heavy heart smashed the eggs for the hens to eat. It is just too late in the year for Ivy to be trying to raise 20 guinea fowl keets....

The seven ducklings are now a couple of days old now and the familiar screaming and tap dancing has started in the shed, much to the delight and excitement of William who will now be camped outside listening to the hysteria with partially hidden glee!

The little deformed black duckling thankfully died overnight

Late Babies

Seven of the ducklings are viable, vital and healthy. One black baby (foreground) has a hatching injury and doesn't have the strength to straighten his neck, he will not survive, but I will give the little fella a chance of sorts today to see if things may improve, sadly it won't.

I have learnt from bitter experience NOT to house ducklings in a cage in the kitchen. They are dreadfully dirty little devils and have an awful habit of pooing on their webbed feet and flinging it around the worktops!

A couple of years ago we had 16 of the little shysters on the kitchen table and Chris and I nearly got divorced because of it all! I will always remember hearing Chris bellowing from the kitchen on his way out to work "Shut up you dirty bastards!!!!!!" at the cacophony of 32 tap dancing little feet as the ducklings ran back and forth in the cage, following his every movement.


From then on , all ducklings have been banished to the shed and the latest babies seem to be happy under their heat lamp It is a little late in the season for babies as the weather is changing to an Autumnal chill, but baby runners are plucky little chaps, and I am sure they will be alright.


Ivy, the female guinea fowl has gone broody late in the season which is a little worrying. She is hidden away somewhere in the Graveyard and pops up briefly every day to have a feed and a drink before disappearing again....Guinea fowl keets hatching in late September is not good

The weather is changing again this week. Gale force winds and driving rain are due today. I snapped this photo of Meg this morning when she sat in the cottage window watching the Churchyard elms whipping back and forth as the weather deteriorates.....William of course, has disappeared...he knows the ducklings are in the shed and has now set up a vigil by the shed door

George is no mug..... he is asleep under our duvet

I hate common tourists

The Children are now back to school and the coastal towns of North Wales are quietening down somewhat.......tomorrow I will go down to Prestatyn to do some shopping and banking and the usual seasonal gauntlet of trailer trash visitors will hopefully NOT be clogging up the pavements and shops with their awful plodding fat carcasses

The dying holiday towns here in North Wales ( and I am talking about the ones that have NOT survived by specialising in out door pursuits or elderly chic) still attract the trailer trash holiday makers of the UK and the towns' populations seem to have an uneasy alliance with visitors that spend most of their days in the Stalag 17 looking Pontins Holiday Camp or the faceless expanses of caravan camp social clubs that lie a stones throw from the sand dunes.

Apart from spending money in Home Bargains and the Clwydian ( a Wetherspoon-ish bar- which has been nicknamed the Chlamydian by local wags) I would question just what these holiday makers give to the local economy but perhaps I am being a little unfair when I say all this...perhaps the daily presence of the aimless and rude, the socially engineered disabled and the uncouth have pandered to my natural snobbishness..........anyhow suffice to say.......most of them from tomorrow HAVE GONE HOME!

Ok enough of the rant.....

Duckling news......update....... we now have 8!

four hatched yesterday and another four hatched this evening.....all runner ducks and runner duck crosses and all look health happy and all bordering on nervous exhaustion......