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| Winnie, Jo and Harry Secombe worry the new Indian Runner ducklings |
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| I wonder what Dan has let himself in for |
Hysteria
Finally amid much screaming, adolescent quacking and flinging of watery poo from hysterical webbed feet, the runner ducklings have been wrestled to the ground from the safety of their shed and in frantic groups of twos and three, they have been transferred to their outdoor run. The move has completely unhinged the field's magpie ducks and geese, who have spent the entire morning gazing intently at the babies through the chicken wire. Tentatively Winnie and the drake (Who I have now nicknamed Harry Secombe) seem just a little obsessed with the new arrivals and I have been amused to watch them push their beaks into the covered run, in order to contact the runners, who true to form have spent most of their time running in circles screaming their vacuous heads off!!!!!
Simple things
Yesterday when we were at Sainsburys ( entertaining Nigel)
I saw this illuminated Halloween ghost.... and I thought it was so cute, Chris bought it for me......
Matt Cardle sings When Love Takes Over
I cannot quite believe it, but I am getting a little bored with Strictly Come Dancing......
so after the foxtrots and salsas, we watched the first live performance of X factor......which is a masterclass of public manipulation and flim flam.....mind you I do have a bit of a "celebrity" crush on the painter and decorator singer Matt Cardle!
Enjoy
Nige and the Supermarket
Nigel is an easy guest. He is one person that does not require "traditional" entertainment organised for him; he hates swanky restaurants, ( a greasy spoon or a diner is more his taste) and I couldn't quite see him propping up the bar at a city centre wine bar, but we did find plenty to do when he paid Chris and I a flying visit yesterday.
Mind you, the things Nigel "enjoys" could be seen as somewhat "different!" than the norm...whatever the Norm actually is that is?
We walked a lot, we talked a lot and we had a mooch around a dying town's decaying indoor market ( Rhyl looking remarkably like a scene from the Bronx's backstreets).The scenes of urban deterioration that we witnessed is like candy to a baby to Nige, who loves people watching on, shall we say, alternative situations!
We also took Nige to Sainsburys to complete the weekly shop which I KNOW sounds somewhat bizarre but it is something that he enjoyed........which was a result!!!! necessary shopping AND entertainment all in one outing!
I did take a photo of us all in the car park larking around but deleted it by accident!
Anyway Nige left for Manchester later this afternoon and I got back to the tried and tested . I moved the six quail babies into their large parrot cage in the shed. Red remains well and robust and can be seen here drinking water from a spare plastic pastry case above (before you ask I know it is him as he has a longer yellow mark on his cheeks compared to the others!)
Right...off now to watch Strictly Come Dancing.......and as I do...I must thank everyone who asked kept up with Red's progress....isn't it amazing that the fate of a one inch chick could and would generate so much discussion
Pig Visit
Oh by the way, Red the baby quail is still doing very well in the shed
Mixed Bag, Red the quail, Flower Show Meeting and Supporting Andrew
Chris was up early again today. He is working away tonight and has all of the high pressure lifestyle so typical of a PhD at the top of his game. He loves his work, so the pressures of deadlines and workload will always be there.....but I do worry that his downtime is non existent at the moment
It was still dark when he left this morning so I walked the dogs early ( they were not amused) and fed and watered the runner ducklings in the shed. The quail have been set up in their own brooder box on a trestle table and all six babies (including "Red" the miracle baby) are doing just fine. They remain absolutely tiny, but I guess like all game birds, they are robust, tough little fellas that are designed to withstand the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune!
Last night we held the first Trelawnyd Flower Show committee meeting since the show was held in August As usual it was a lively bunfight of a meeting with plenty of ideas being bandied about Auntie Glads kitchen. Auntie Gladys is quite deaf, especially in company when there is constant chatter, so contents herself with preparing copious amounts of tea and buttered scones when the meeting is in progress, but having said this, the meeting went so for so long last night ( we had to thrash out the new 2011 schedule) that she did flag just a little when sat next to her kitchen aga, and started to doze in her arm chair before we called it a night!
It is my sister-in-law's birthday today and my sister and I will be calling up later with gifts and cards.Janet (twin sister) has really got the bit between her teeth with developing her blog site, facebook page and fund raising efforts in order to support our brother Andrew and his progressing illness. Generally, Janet has always been the more reticent of the four siblings ( I am sure she wont mind me saying that) but with determination and drive she has single handedly turned into a bit of a warrior queen, in organising event after event AFTER event in support of this new cause.
Thank you to all of Going Gently's readers who have supported her (and me) by taking the time to comment on her blog http://supportingandrew.blogspot.com/ and by buying the MND (Motor Neurone Disease) charity bands
You all have been very kind and I am very grateful for your efforts believe me!
(Above is a photo Janet took of a local dance group all wearing their MND wrist bands)
It was still dark when he left this morning so I walked the dogs early ( they were not amused) and fed and watered the runner ducklings in the shed. The quail have been set up in their own brooder box on a trestle table and all six babies (including "Red" the miracle baby) are doing just fine. They remain absolutely tiny, but I guess like all game birds, they are robust, tough little fellas that are designed to withstand the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune!
Last night we held the first Trelawnyd Flower Show committee meeting since the show was held in August As usual it was a lively bunfight of a meeting with plenty of ideas being bandied about Auntie Glads kitchen. Auntie Gladys is quite deaf, especially in company when there is constant chatter, so contents herself with preparing copious amounts of tea and buttered scones when the meeting is in progress, but having said this, the meeting went so for so long last night ( we had to thrash out the new 2011 schedule) that she did flag just a little when sat next to her kitchen aga, and started to doze in her arm chair before we called it a night!
Thank you to all of Going Gently's readers who have supported her (and me) by taking the time to comment on her blog http://supportingandrew.blogspot.com/ and by buying the MND (Motor Neurone Disease) charity bands
You all have been very kind and I am very grateful for your efforts believe me!
(Above is a photo Janet took of a local dance group all wearing their MND wrist bands)
A Little Miracle
I was not going to blog again today. I have had to get on with harvesting beetroot and swede and the runner ducklings needed their new house to be cleaned and disinfected before they are due to be transferred outside next week, but I just had to share one of the Sweetest little victories I have been a part of in many a month!
Last night I switched off the incubator after "bobbing" the final few quail eggs. Non were "pipping" and none bobbed when immersed in warm water, so convinced the remaining couple of eggs were duds I shut everything down.
Today at midday, I remembered that I had left the last eggs in the incubator, so I removed them,(throwing them in the rubbish bag) and disinfected the dirty incubator out. As I was drying the equipment I noticed Albert digging through the rubbish bag and suddenly he stopped dead when the faintest of "peeps" sounded beneath a load of potato peelings and banana skins.
I dug through the crap and pulled out an egg with the smallest of cracks in it. A tiny beak was pushed through the gap and as I looked carefully at it, it gave the smallest of shudders. The egg was literally stone cold, so I cupped it in my hands and blew on it gently. The chick moved slowly and gave another weak peep, so I kept breathing on it willing the little scrap to survive.
The eggs had been cold over 16 hours, so it is unbelievable that the chick had found the reserves to hatch but hatch it did and half an hour later it kicked free of its shell, still hidden away in the palm of my hand.
I transferred the baby to the hastily re assembled incubator (you try setting one up with one hand!) and here he is 2 hours later!
What with everything going on in our lives......(Chris has a multi million pound research bid to complete! and the bloody coalition Government is still bleating on about the unemployed and benefit cutting) the saga of a tiny chick no bigger than my thumb is hardly of any importance.........but to be honest, as the tiny quail valiantly raised his head as I lifted the incubator lid, I literally could have wept.
Last night I switched off the incubator after "bobbing" the final few quail eggs. Non were "pipping" and none bobbed when immersed in warm water, so convinced the remaining couple of eggs were duds I shut everything down.
Today at midday, I remembered that I had left the last eggs in the incubator, so I removed them,(throwing them in the rubbish bag) and disinfected the dirty incubator out. As I was drying the equipment I noticed Albert digging through the rubbish bag and suddenly he stopped dead when the faintest of "peeps" sounded beneath a load of potato peelings and banana skins.
I dug through the crap and pulled out an egg with the smallest of cracks in it. A tiny beak was pushed through the gap and as I looked carefully at it, it gave the smallest of shudders. The egg was literally stone cold, so I cupped it in my hands and blew on it gently. The chick moved slowly and gave another weak peep, so I kept breathing on it willing the little scrap to survive.
The eggs had been cold over 16 hours, so it is unbelievable that the chick had found the reserves to hatch but hatch it did and half an hour later it kicked free of its shell, still hidden away in the palm of my hand.
I transferred the baby to the hastily re assembled incubator (you try setting one up with one hand!) and here he is 2 hours later!
Sociability and Bullied babies
The dogs usually have a long walk/run on the beach in the mornings. Their walk in the afternoon is centred around the village and I take this opportunity to deliver eggs to my regular loyal customers dotted here and there around the six or seven streets that make up Trelawnyd.
Yesterday, I walked the dogs later than usual ( I had been collecting apples for my neighbour Trevor) we walked up to the main road where I waved and called "hello" to neighbour Pat as she drove out of the village then passed old Mrs Jones who was deep in conversation with a friend. By Llys Mostyn, I waved again at Robert C who runs the neat allotment in the centre of the village and Derek and Heulwen from the Flower Show Committee, hooted their car horn in a brief "hello" as they drove up High Street.
An elderly lady (I dont know her name) waved her thin pale arm at us when we passed her sheltered bungalow (it is a habit we both have gotten into) and pretty Joanne who has a couple of the biggest dogs you will ever have the pleasure to see, gave me one of her bubbly "hellos" as I passed her on Bron Haul before I stopped and chatted to Meirion about his famous hanging baskets and tubs.
The red faced Welsh Farmer in his distinctive red landrover and knackered old tweed hat gave me a grubby thumbs up as we negotiated the zebra crossing back home and neighbour Mandy stopped to chat briefly as we entered the garden gate before she carried on with one of her power walks up to the garage shop.
It was only after I got home that I realised that my usual solitary fifteen minute walk could be...well..... so bloody sociable!
Bingley the Bourbon red turkey got out of his enclosure this morning and sneaked up to where Boris is housed and gave the older boy a good pasting. Luckily the geese, upset at the violence honked at the pair so loudly that I heard the commotion from the cottage and went out to investigate. I chased Bingley off with a rake and have just finished cleaning Boris' scratches and lacerations as he sat rather forlornly on my knee, like a big fat baby. As imposing as he is, Boris is just one big puddin' when it comes to physical confrontation ( with the exception of his constant hatred of Chris- who he will attack at the drop of a hat).Bingley, the geese and even the more robust hens will intimidate Boris constantly and I am constantly touched with the way he will seek me out to "cuddle "up when things dont quite go his way........
Yesterday, I walked the dogs later than usual ( I had been collecting apples for my neighbour Trevor) we walked up to the main road where I waved and called "hello" to neighbour Pat as she drove out of the village then passed old Mrs Jones who was deep in conversation with a friend. By Llys Mostyn, I waved again at Robert C who runs the neat allotment in the centre of the village and Derek and Heulwen from the Flower Show Committee, hooted their car horn in a brief "hello" as they drove up High Street.
An elderly lady (I dont know her name) waved her thin pale arm at us when we passed her sheltered bungalow (it is a habit we both have gotten into) and pretty Joanne who has a couple of the biggest dogs you will ever have the pleasure to see, gave me one of her bubbly "hellos" as I passed her on Bron Haul before I stopped and chatted to Meirion about his famous hanging baskets and tubs.
The red faced Welsh Farmer in his distinctive red landrover and knackered old tweed hat gave me a grubby thumbs up as we negotiated the zebra crossing back home and neighbour Mandy stopped to chat briefly as we entered the garden gate before she carried on with one of her power walks up to the garage shop.
It was only after I got home that I realised that my usual solitary fifteen minute walk could be...well..... so bloody sociable!
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