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

Cross Over Friendships

I have always found interaction between animal species fascinating
As a rule it just does not occur as animals have a great ability to be able to ignore each other in everyday life, but just occasionally cross overs do occur and genuine "friendships" and bonding can flourish.


A few years ago Hughie was the only guinea fowl on the field. He was isolated and lonely and over a matter of days alone teamed up with a young cockerel called Rogo, who accepted the "relationship" with what seemed like a mutual affection and need.
Last year Camilla the orphaned Canada Goose teamed up with Badger the baby cockerel, and many moons ago our old cat Joan had a friendly, if not playful relationship with our first Welsh terrier, Finlay.
The exception always proves the rule, 
as with humans, the over riding thing of importance with animals is to have some closeness with another living thing

The Inseparable Hughie and Rogo

Early this morning, after I cooked some chicken in an attempt to tempt the more quiet -than-normal Albert into eating. I cut the meat into small chunks and took them up to the bedroom where Albert was sleeping on the bed, and as I walked into room I noticed William curled up with him, licking the cat's face and eye very, very gently.
It was a sweet little moment of pack solidarity, which kind of underlined to me that Albert is indeed not as well as he could be.
More shit shovelling today...but not as much as yesterday...I'm working tonight!

" Stealing flowers" and How To Tame An Animal

Village tongues may be clacking this morning as yesterday, I was seen leaving Pat ( the animal helper's) house with a large bunch of garden flowers. Pat is on a holiday cruise , so I am watering her tomatoes everyday.......the flowers I had permission to remove.....
I thought I'd just get that straight.
Anyhow,
Last week, at the animal wholesales, I bumped into Bunty the lesbian smallholder from Llanfair
Talhalarn. I was buying layers pellets , she was looking for rat poison. Though part of me thought that Bunty didn't really need poison to kill anything. She always looks as though she could strangle a hippo with only one hand.
I asked her how the geese were, the ones that she bought from me last year.
" the snotty bastards are still keeping their distance" Bunty moaned " I still can't tame them"
I didn't have the heart to tell her, that with her big booming voice, she was never likely to...ever.
Animals need the Penelope Wilton approach rather than the Brian Blessed

There are several rules that need to be followed where the taming of animals are concerned

1. You need to move slowly at first and get on with doing quiet routine jobs around them without looking at the animal you want to tame.
2. If you have jobs or zombie games to play on the ipad, sit down near the animal and keep quietly busy. The animal invariably will come towards you to give you the " once over". When they do approach talk to the animals quietly. This works very well with geese and sheep who are naturally curious...if you are up for it.....lie down in the field face down ( although don't do this with pigs!)
3. Use food bribery using favourite food stuffs.  Cheap white bread is nectar ,to sheep and geese and turkey's and hens adore teats of dog food. Always leave the animals " wanting more" use the same feed bucket or bowl every day and use a consistent animal call to " Marshall the troops" 
4. Try not to dress in different clothes and hats . Consistency is the key.
5.  Never try too hard.

Things you mustn't do when taming animals

1. Don't have a crafty piss when geese are about beak height is invariably at willy height
2. Never scream like a girl in the vicinity of potentially hysterical Indian runner ducks
3. Never hold an animal tentatively. Most animals will go " limp" if you hold them firmly
4. Keep small screaming children and toddlers locked up in a cage if possible. 

Irene and Sylvia will now eat corn out of my hand and do so every morning 

Bingley will sit on my lap for a taste of dog food

Camilla, has a natural reticence with people but will allow herself to be picked up

New cockerel  " Capaldi" is a work in progress