Meandering Min

St Patrick's Day goose egg

Regular readers may remember the fun and games we had last year with a wayward Sussex Ponte hen who decided to lay her daily egg away across the fields in a hedge. We named her Wandering Wendy (though we never really were able to tell our 5 Sussex girls apart) and we used to try to predict when she'd slink off and try to follow her or even get ahead of her by running down the lane. These 'Operation Chicken Watch' manouvres did eventually lead to us discovering her stash and being able to bring it home and she has since mended her ways. Today we got 10 eggs out of the 11 current hens (a new record!) and ALL were laid in sensible places, the rabbit 'Maternity Ward' hutch in the chicken house (currently empty of bunnies and left open), the official nest boxes or the Cuckoo Marans' out-station coop.

St Pat's Day Breakfast fry.

No, it is the Guinea Fowl hen, 'Min', who has today caused us a bit of concern. I saw, out of the corner of my eye when standing in the kitchen, a shaggy collie type dog sprint down the neighbouring 5-acre field past the gate. Naturally I went out to check 'we' were OK and whether there might be people in the lane who had let their dog get out of control. I later saw this dog skulking off down the lane westwards, still with no attendant humans, apparently sniffing at all the rubbish in the verge, so maybe lost and hungry, or dumped and scavenging. Returning to base we realised that we had the cock-bird Guinea Fowl 'Henry' but no sign of Min. We thought that Min was not missing due to the dog, as there had been no 'shouting' or trauma and Henry was wandering about happily with the chickens, very quiet and unconcerned. They make a devil of a racket if ever they get separated, even by just wandering to either side of a wall or bush, so we couldn't imagine he'd accept having his wife snatched in front of his eyes with such lack of drama.

Donkey cart, pig in cage, geese on roof
and goat and sheep tethered behind.

The Guineas are probably our most wandering of birds and we regularly see them at the boundaries, often nipping through into the 5 acre field, or down beyond the 'allotment' and orchard (to our North) and still, more worryingly, occasionally in the lane where they are, at least, very sensible and street-wise around the traffic. We also know that Guineas will often lay their eggs in a hedge and ignore all your nice tidy, hay filled and INDOOR boxes. As we are now in March, we therefore hoped that the missing Min was just a sneak off to lay an egg and that Henry had been told to go 'act natural' so as not to draw suspicion. I had a quick look round but could find no sign of Min though we did see Henry gazing under the caravan at one stage. We left them to it and an hour later we were both relieved to hear Min's 2-tone "buck wheat buck wheat" call as she had arrived back on site and was now summoning up Henry, who rapidly appeared. We have no real idea which direction she came from (this time) but Liz thinks it was from the front garden or lane. We wonder whether the silly girl has decided to lay her eggs (and then go broody?) down across the lane somewhere. We will have to do a bit of Operation Guinea Watch, see if we can track her hidey hole down.

No man's land.

(Other) Regular readers may recall that we are gradually working our way through the site here 'designing' bits of garden to suit the area but that (again) last year we realised that we had a bit called, jokingly by us, "The bit we don't talk about". It was between the hay barn and the orchard, and has now become the big pond, the paths and the raised beds edged with scaffold board. Well, now we have another one which keeps prodding at us. It is a small section between the bottom of the yard, the top of the gulley, 'the bit behind the wall' and the 'back of the goose house. It is an awkward sloped area which had also suffered the indignity of spoil from the yard being dumped on it during the build, so it is a lumpy bumpy mess of clay-wrapped rubble, rushes and poor drainage. We are now looking at it with sharp and critical expressions on our faces.

Busy Bees

You may have spotted the plethora of St Patrick's Parade pictures. We decided to do St Pat's properly this year, having the fried breakfast and attending the parade in nearby town Ballaghaderreen, followed by a Guinness or two in town (for me; the lovely and very generous Lizzie offered to drive) and then a supper of bacon, cabbage, mash, carrot and parsley sauce. The parade was quite fun, though small and very 'Balla' flavoured (by which I mean that all the local issues seemed to have a float to publicise their cause; 'Leave the By-Pass and shop locally!' and 'Stop the lines of pylons!', for example)

Bypass the Bypass

There were five or so marching bands from local schools etc who all seemed to be playing "Star of the County Down" as they passed us and a more grown up marching band (Ballagh Pipe and Drum) playing "Forty Shades of Green". There was a nice float from a petting zoo which featured a cart pulled by a donkey containing a cage housing a pig, geese on the roof and a sheep and a goat tethered behind. There were nursery groups (we loved the Busy Bees in their yellow and black stripes!), bikers, classic cars including a Cadillac with acres of 'hood' and 'trunk', tractors, tow trucks, an open-sided lorry, a racing car, fire engines and all manner of noisy and brightly dressed people. All seemed to be going well.

A good crowd of watchers

And so we retreated to Durkin's bar for a well earned Guinness or two and thence home for a lie down. Much later came our patriotic supper - 'bacon and cabbage'. These daughters of Steak Lady, though, they do not just do the veg and ingredients and whack them onto your plate snack-bar style. The cabbage (green), mash (white) and carrots (orange) get laid out onto the plate to represent the Irish national flag.

The 'bacon' was also a bit special and an eye opener to me. Liz had heard of a recipe in which the bacon joint is boiled for a while in, among other things, Coca Cola. Neither of us drink Coca cola and we would never normally have it around the house, but we had a couple of cans left from one of the visits last summer, so in it went to the Nigella Lawson recipe. It was only a mass-produced supermarket bacon joint but I have to admit that it was sweet and delicious cooked that way.

Finally, in a less well known aspect of 'Paddy's Day', it is the day by which you are 'meant' to have your seed potatoes in and your onion sets. I am happy to say that after the dry, warm week leading up to The Day, all my ground had a chance to dry out and I have been able to get 'out there' and plant my 3 nets (6 kg total) of Sarpo Mira (main crop), plus 2 kg each of Sharp's Express and Rocket (First Earlies) as well as my white, gold and red onion sets. The season has started.

I'm after Connie

Pig Ark complete and in its final position

St Patrick's Weekend and a chance for even we Brits to be as Irish as possible. This gives me a chance to post on a subject which has been building up, much to my amusement, and that is the 'divided by a common language' thing. In theory, both the Brits and the Irish speak 'English' but you do not have to be around Irish people for long to realise that you can go well astray if you just plough on in normal chat and conversation, using your colloquial English.

The hive now painted white and
sitting on its new stand.

I, for one, am constantly delighted by the colourful turns of phrase used by the locals here and, if I can remember them I sometimes make a note of them, determined to use them in a post like this one.

John Deere Bob, for example after a dry dusty job; "Wait while I fetch a glass of water, I'm as dry as a fish!"

Bob again on me teasing him about using two tea bags in the mug, which he always does when making us 'tay'; "Ah, you need it a bit strong, water is no good for you!"

An expression to describe well-muscled women who might be able to lob a few hay bales around; "Beef to the heels, like a Mullingar heifer!"

Banana cake, from a recipe via Mazy

One of our bee keeping lecturers on being asked if an anti-varroa-mite product was toxic "Sure, there's a fearful bang off it!"

Bobby again in a conversation about bee keeping; "Ah now, I wouldn't want any of that. I'd be worried they'd be at me at night, like some manner of faeries trying to get me"

and then when frightened by a child-like crying while tending sheep, "The power was lay-ving me legs till I got back inside the house".

Spices bound for home made mango chutney.

We love all these and there have been a million more which I have not had a chance to write down. These are all harmless and enjoyable, but in some turns of phrase, to use the English version can get you into all kinds of confusion and trouble. One such is 'savage', the latest buzz word for 'brilliant, really good, 'cool', used by both adults and the youth. We were at young Henry's Birthday Party chatting to a farmer and the subject of our having geese came up. Farmer James was impressed and asked "Are they savage?". I was concerned to reassure him that, no, they are quite tame. I went waffling on about the gander, George, being especially so, having been hand reared by Charlotte. I spotted the confusion furrowing his brow but just took it to be a problem with my accent. It was only on the way home that Liz explained about the local use of 'savage'. James must have thought I was a right dope!

Crocus now fully out in the sunshine.

Another one which I am struggling to get used to is the use of the word 'after'. The Irish use it in an almost chronological sense, so when they say "I'm after buying a new car" they mean "I have very recently bought,,,". JD Bob uses it to decline our offers of tea by saying "Ah, I won't, I'm just after tea". Down in the south east of England, I have been regularly using it to mean 'looking for' or 'hunting', so I'd happily go into a shop and say "what I'm after, is the latest edition of Practical Pigs magazine" or "I was in the pet shop, I was after tinned dog food"

Pulmonaria flowering in our 'woods'.

You may be ahead of me here, but I think you can see how this would lead you into trouble. If it is objects or shopping you are 'after' you might get a confused look. 'I'm after dog-food' to a shopkeeper would get you a confused look and the poor guy hunting for a suitable reply to someone who has just walked in and appears to be saying he has just had (eaten) some Pedigree Chum. But yesterday I needed to go into the bank and seek out a specific member of staff. As you (may) do, I parked the car and walked across the car-park mentally rehearsing how you'd put this. "Excuse me, but I have been asked to come in to the bank and ask for Connie".

Mango chutney

Luckily it occurred to me that I could get into all kinds of trouble if I breezed in and opened with "Hi, I'm after Connie!" They would all be falling off their chairs and thinking of suitable rejoinders covering the possibility that I might be proudly announcing that I had just been up to no good with one of their esteemed members of staff.

But enough of this. Our lovely spring sunshine and rain-less-ness continues and today, for the first time since December, I was able to get right in to the muck heap with a tractor load of bullock-muck from Bob's. I've been dropping it on the hard standing and barrowing it round for fear that the tractor would sink without trace into the grass. We have all the crocus now fully out in the sunshine and even some Pulmonaria (lung-wort) breaking bud in our woods. We are hoping for good weather again tomorrow so that we can get some seed potatoes and onion sets in. And to cap it all on a lovely St Patrick's weekend we think Ireland are just 'after' beating France in a bit of a tight one and thereby winning the 6 Nations Rugby. Our contribution was to NOT watch or listen lest we jinx the 'Boys in Green'. We only dared look when we knew it was well over.

Happy St Patrick's Day (Beannachtaí, na Féile Pádraig oraibh)

Pig Ark

A very welcome rain-less week is currently drying out our ground beautifully, so that our thoughts and plans can turn to gardening and getting on the ground without damaging the soil. Our crocus bulbs, planted last autumn have finally felt the sun on their petals and opened properly - they'd been sulking in that nearly-open state that crocus do when the rain is falling. Our tête-à-tête daffodils in the tub outside the front door are also cracking on now. But we are being patient and letting the soil dry nicely before we rush in and we have plenty of 'hard standing' tasks we can do, not least building the pig ark.

This we have un-ashamedly 'lifted' from the Haynes Pig Manual written by Liz Shankland (but actually designed and built by her husband, she says). It is based around 8 by 4 sheets of plywood and corrugated iron rolled to fit round these as a roof. We have had some fun putting this together, one of those nice projects where we can work together. It is quite a substantial construction incorporating tanalised '4 by 2' and '3 by 2', with a floor of 7 by 1 inch planks. It is in two sections, the floor and the roof.

The floor frame on its own was too heavy for one person to lift. The roof is a bit lighter but whether we can realistically flip it up off to clean out the ark remains to be seen. I suspect I will be crawling in there on hands and knees and shoveling out straw. I am told that pigs are clean animals and will not dung in their bedroom, so it would only be their mud I am crawling about in!

The ark will sit in the new pig-pen down in the 'Secret Garden', well out of range of any extension leads that I can deploy to drive power tools, so the roof section has had to be pre-drilled in bits up by the Tígín and then carried down to be assembled with my cordless, re-charge-able screw driver. We have also given the semi circular boards a coat of varnish / wood preserver, 'Sadolin's "Antique Pine" colour. So it might look like Class 3 Floor-grade 18 mm plywood to you, but I assure you it is now the finest word in sophisticated piggy accommodation. In this post are various pics taken 'en route' I will put up a pic of the finished article in its woodland setting when it is complete.

We have been out shopping over the last couple of days and have scored some notable successes. In general, the Irish do not 'do' gardens, with most houses having a broad expanse of grass with a few spot plants and trees. Garden centres as we Brits know them are few and far between and do not stock much in the way of unusual plants. We have yet to find what we'd call a 'specialist nursery', though they may exist. Our biggest local garden centre is probably Ardcarne which has a branch in Boyle, but also one in Roscommon Town. The Boyle branch seems to disappoint more often than satisfy us, but in Roscommon on Wednesday we managed to find several things we'd been hunting down; bare root summer-fruiting raspberries and bare root Ribes, first early seed potatoes (Rocket and Foremost) and red cabbage seed. We also picked up some heritage variety blue potato 'seed' for a bit of fun.

Then today we dropped in on one of our favourite shops, Flynn's 'Alladin's cave' of a hardware shop in Castlerea, the like of which has long since died out in the UK; seeds and hats are jumbled in alongside porcelain hen and chicks statues, bacon, glass 'chimneys' for oil lamps, playing cards, willow pattern china. devotional pictures, camping 'gaz' cylinders, local gaelic games sweaters, white spirits and meths and so on. Our mission, though, was bee related. We had heard that Mr Flynn was a bee keeper and might be selling bee equipment. He was indeed, and quickly furnished us with a price list for hive parts, bee smokers, beeswax 'foundation' and frames. We'd also heard that he might have seed for fodder beet, something we might be able to grow to supplement the food of our pigs. Again, he was there, quickly finding a commercial sized box of the stuff, from which he measured us out a 'handful' into an envelope for our €2 worth of seed. How much seed did we need? An area, we said, about the size of (glancing around) your chill cabinet! Ooops, though - the seed is agricultural 'pelleted' seed. The seeds come coated in a tiny bright red sphere of insecticide and fungicide to help them go through the seed drill and give them a good start in life. There goes our claim to be 'organic' this year, then!

A Million (more) Trees

This year's batch of the 'Million Trees' heeled in

Long term readers will remember that last year we got involved in an ecological conservation project to "Plant a Million Trees in One Day".

See post at http://deefer-dawg.blogspot.ie/search?q=million

The very ambitious project struggled a bit when Ireland was hit by its first outbreak of Ash Die-Back and the Forestry guys licencing the project had to freeze and recall all the ash trees which were to be one of the main species. The project was saved from delays and possible total loss by the team managing to get other species through (all be it on a very creaky, under-resourced distribution system) so that everybody who had 'signed' up at least got a starter pack. An estimated 100,000 trees were planted which would not have been planted were it not for the project so I, for one applaud them. More power to their elbow.

More calf muck from John Deere Bob

I was delighted, then, when I received an email telling me that they were on again in 2014 to try to get everyone some more trees, if possible, the remainder of their previous order, if they still wanted to 'play'. This time the distribution, still a purely volunteer effort, was a whole lot more localised and diffuse, and I was asked to only go to just south of Roscommon town, rather than all the way to Enniskillen. A very nice lady, Eilish, was there to meet me and give me my trees; plus she invited me in for coffee and we had a good chat about small holdings, sheep and mini-horses. Like us, she has fields she needs to keep grazed or grow something on (she's thinking herbs or lavender). 8 or 9 cats seemed to be strolling in the driveway, sitting on the car bonnet or under the car while we chatted. Thank you for that, Eilish. Thank you, too, Project Leader, Imogen. You guys are an inspiration. My trees are now 'home' safe and heeled in to a raised bed in my 'allotment'.

A bit of fun for the dogs today. I would normally groom them myself but our friend Charlotte of the mini-horses needs to practice some dog grooming as part of her college training, so my three 'volunteered' to be groomed down the lane. Charlotte also had charge of a couple of young ones today, daughters of a friend of Carolyn, named Felicity and Olivia, so all three girls were determined to get stuck in. I had to drop the dogs off at midday and make like a proper 'customer' stating my preferences, but then leave them all alone to do the job. They'd phone when we were all ready.

Towser shows off his 'tattoos'

Well, I can happily report that the dogs are beautifully cut, washed and shampoo'd. The ladies also had a bit of fun with a set of stencils and "blow colours" which Charlotte had got from her grooming gear supplier, taking advantage of the fact that these dogs are white; we have red paw prints, the word 'Rockstar' written in purple, we have a unicorn, a star, a butterfly, a Hallowe'en witchy cat, the word 'DIVA' (on Deefer, naturally!) and a blue heart on Towser's rump. They wash off easily enough and, in fact, were already fading by that same evening as the dogs lay down to recover from their 'ordeal'.

Way, way better for the grooming team than yesterday's experience, which saw them dealing with a criminally neglected, badly matted long haired collie, an aggressive boy named Toby. This dog had come to the attention of vet Aoife because the ISPCA had been called in and would need to take the dog away from the owners if they did not get it groomed. The girls handled the dog with 2 muzzles on him and with Aoife on call to sedate the dog if he was too badly stressed - he was and the job was completed with Toby half way under.

Bee hive gets a coat of white gloss, outside only.

Charlotte did not manage to get any before and after pictures but I have seen the wads of matted fur in the rubbish bucket. One was a good 10 inches across and an inch thick and the poor dog was wearing it (and three others) like a saddle. The dog's neck was a mess of cow-muck encrusted 'dreadlocks'. It went home a very short-haired but clean version of its former self with Charlotte advising the owners that they need to bring him back before Christmas. I suspect that they will do no such thing till the ISPCA come calling again. No peace for the vets round here.

Pig Pen

Pig pen main gate. The orchard is on the left.

What with having freezers full of meat, portions of cooked stuff and veg and having leeks and sprouts still growing, our weekly shop is normally a very modest affair - bread, milk, bakery stuff, wine etc. Just recently though we have gone into 'project' mode and we seem to have been shelling out money hand over fist. The poor old hoover finally needed replacement and Liz is buying a 2nd hand sewing machine. There is the beehive and now the frames and other equipment and there will soon be the bees themselves. There are the parts for the pig ark. We have had a tow hitch fitted to the Fiat (that one was €400) and we are looking for a small stock trailer. Most recently there is the fencing for the pig pen.

We always knew how vital good fencing is to any livestock enterprise and that is one of the biggest costs you will face. Fencing the orchard in 2012 cost €600 and, last year, the East Field set us back €1050. I use a good local contractor who we call 'Paul the Fence'; a one man band with old but efficient fencing gear and a seriously ancient MF tractor with a 50 kg weight 'pile driver' on the back for the big posts. He's a great bloke and we get on really well. He does not mind (and seems to appreciate) me helping out labouring and we chat away, yarning while we work swapping stories and the time flies. He loves his food, so Liz, who loves to cook for an appreciative audience gets into top 'catering' mode baking biscuits and cake for tea breaks and potato cakes or home made pork pie, hot for lunch stops.

Monkey-strainer pulls the 'barbed'

Neither of us had actually kept pigs before or, indeed, done any pig fencing so we are only guessing but I have read and seen described a version which is basically sheep wire with a strand of barbed top and bottom. The top strand dissuades pigs from trying to rear up at the fence and look over. The bottom stops them trying to root underneath from whence they can push up powerfully potentially lifting the posts out and the fence up high enough for them to get under. Some systems back this up with an electric fence (or even rely solely on the electric fence) but I cannot bring myself to trust only that method, so I like something physical in the way of containment. Also electric fence 'pulsators' are mad money!

So we decided to go with the sheep wire and high tensile (green) barbed wire. We also decided that even though a polygon roughly 35 m N/S and 25 m E/W was way way too big for what 2 piggies would need, we could give ours a satisfying and exciting environment (and save fencing money) by allowing them all the area between the existing orchard fence and the existing East field fence. Our N/S runs were already there and would only need the bottom strand of barbed adding. Our E/W runs already had their end posts against which we could strain our wire going that way. We just needed a gate and since this was to be just a pig and pedestrian entrance (no tractor access) Paul had a spare one from a previous job lying about.

Main rain gulley is now the 'wallow'

You can see from the map above that this pen gives the pigs (from left to right) a bit of grass meadow (which may not last long!), then the lovely gnarly bank with its sticking out hawthorn and beech roots and the huge black spruce trees. Then there is the 'under the trees' bit in the shade of the spruce and, on the east side, the big ashes I am re-coppicing at present. This was TK-Max's vegetable plot till he inadvisedly planted the spruces as saplings in the 60's and is more recently a 'forest floor' of thick pine needle litter. Finally, along the east side is the 8 foot wide, 3-4 feet deep rain gulley which takes all the rain water from the house roof and yard. We thought this would make a nice wallow for the pigs, but it created for the fencers an interesting task of running fence across it at either end. Lots of splodging about in wellies too, especially on the Thursday morning when it rained and rained and soaked us through to the underclothes!

All completed now, though and we are all very pleased with it. Paul was joking that we will have to let him know if it 'works' and contains the pigs, so that he can then add 'Pig Fincin' to his adverts.

In the 'pig ark' department, I have all the parts for a nice ark on order. It is to be one of those 'Anderson shelter' style huts you see in fields of outdoor-reared pigs, with a curved galvanised corrugated iron roof. Our local builders' providers proved able to supply the curved sheeting and we both raked out our 2-Pi-R mathematics from school to find that for a 4 foot radius curve, you'd need a 12 and a half foot sheet to start with.

The Fiat gets a tow hitch.

The steel man asked that I come along to see the sheets rolled (and to explain to him exactly what I was after) so that we both knew what we were at. I was happy to. The rolling 'mill' turned out to be an ancient and venerable, rusty dusty beast about the size of a dining table with an old fashion electric motor and flappy drive belts, which they hefted out of the corner of one of their sheds into the daylight with a forklift. The guy ran our (3) sheets through several times each, turning up the tension at each pass, and then setting the sheet down against floor markings to check we had an 8 foot wide 'building'. Fascinating to watch. The sheet and the wood will be delivered on Monday. That's my jobs sorted out for next week, I'm thinking.

Pork, Pigs, Paul and Pancakes

When I left you at the previous post, we were gearing up for our big invasion, expecting 12 mouths to feed on roast pork on the Sunday. We can not really cater for this many and had to get K-Dub to bring with him three chairs and to resurrect from the poly-tunnel our spare table. The latter was the original kitchen table which came with the house, inherited from TK-Min but has been serving time as potting-bench in the tunnel. Sunday morning saw me hefting it round on my back so that Liz could give it a good scrub out at the front of the house.

Spare table - a TK-Min original.

We made up with stools, folding chairs and a mountain of cutlery which we keep in a crate for spares. The day was a great success, the house a chaotic buzz of noise, children. chattering gossip, full-time Mums getting a chance to chill out as someone else minded their charges, K-Dub, Mr Silverwood and me able to do some male bonding, Charlotte getting on really well with J-M and Em-J hunting escaped rabbits and so on. The pork, you will recall, had been very-slow roasted, a quick burst of 250 degrees, then 90 degrees for 24 hours. It was a 6.2 kg leg of Gloucester Old Spots reared by Carolyn and, cooked like that, barely needed carving. I could have picked it up the bone at one end and given it a quick shake but the crackling was also superb. Dessert was a date and rhubarb crumble with ice cream and there was a gooey-centred chocolate mousse cake for later. It was a happy gang of well fed, gossiped-out good company that we bade farewell to. Thank you all for coming and enjoying our place so well.

Big Sarpo Mira spuds are still coming out clean from the store.

Back to work then and, as is our wont, the making of a LIST. We love, every now and then, to take a stroll together round the site and make sure we have a handle on everything that needs doing, so we walk round in a big double spiral, note book and pen in hand listing tasks, in this case 32 of them. We have everything from long-running needs we have been avoiding (Digging out the bank!) and big projects like pig-fencing, to back-burner jobs which might never happen (Make the yard dog-proof*), to quick and easy ones (paint bee hive or fence round the raised bed). This list then gets transferred to a spreadsheet (you probably guessed that bit!) so that we can prioritise it.

Occasional huge eggs. This one weighed in at 118 g

That process brought into sharp focus the need to get ready for the pigs in two areas, building the pig ark and getting the fencing installed. I nipped down to our builders' providers in Castlerea this morning to order the bits for the ark. By happy coincidence, we suddenly got the phone call from Paul-the-Fence quoting me a very good price and saying that he would like to start both my pig fence and two entrances he is improving for Vendor Anna, this week. We are suddenly all 'go'. I had been dropping a few spindly dead trees in our woods and logging them up and was tired from hefting the chainsaw, when Liz shouted "I think Paul has arrived!"

We love a pancake!

There he was in his huge van loaded with galvanized gates and massive, 10 inch diameter (and smaller) wooden posts, sheep wire and barbed wire. I thought he was just unloading, ready to start tomorrow but, No, this is Paul. He stopped briefly for tea and some of Liz's home made orange biscuits and then decided that if we made a start now we could get the main post and gate to the pig field done this evening before it got dark at 18:30. I'll do pictures of this, and the ark, when we are a bit further on but I think I am going to be busy over the next few days. Lovely tonight, then, to lock up the chickens, walk the dogs and come indoors from the post-bashing to light the range, and look forward to pancakes from my own expert and Queen of the Pancake. It is bitter sweet to enjoy these remembering that 'we' always did pancakes (Liz doing chef) in Kent with our good friends Diamond, John and (the late) Denis. We love it here but we'd be lying if we said we never missed the Kent days and pancakes is one of those foods which bring it all back. Happy Shrove Tuesday, Diamond and John. Lovely memories of 'Den'.

*Sounds easy but we worry that the chickens would still try to fly in to get to their house so we need a dogs-in-chickens-excluded solution which does not spoil the look of the back yard. We'll get there. We are just not sure how yet.

Breaking 'The Codes'

The mini horse of whom we have had custody in our acre and a half of 'East Field' for the winter, is still waiting to have his gelding operation slotted in between the end of the risk of frost (which causes blood clotting problems) and the spring start up of the nasty flies which prey on horses and give them such a hard time in the warm weather. Well, I don't suppose HE is waiting in any sense, but we followers are. Cody is his name, but he's a pedigree with a name longer than he is which ends with "Da Vinci Code" so he gets called Cody, Codes, 'the Codes' and so on, hence my title.

He had been Carolyn and Charlotte's stud stallion but the market has fallen right out of almost every type of horse now, so there is no point in using him to breed with, so no need to put up with his 'stallion-ness', hence the decision to have the boy 'done'. So what to do with him? Charlotte decided to break him to the harness for towing, as has been done with his two amigos (Bob and Romeo). This way he can pull the cart and, for a bit of fun, also be used to drag logs back across Vendor Anna's land the old way so that he works and stays fit and strong. Charlotte asked me would I like to help, watch, learn and join in the fun and games

So Thursday saw us rounding up Cody and Charlotte started to wrangle him into all his leather gear, the big yoke across his back to take the weight of the cart-shafts, his head piece and the 'bit' for his mouth, straps from 'pommel' to the back of his head to stop him lowering his head, one from his girth (tummy) to his chin to stop him raising it too far, one round his tail across his bum to stop everything sliding forward... the poor boy was well trussed up.

There are presumably proper names for all these bits, so Carolyn and Charlotte will be laughing fit to bust by now but you get the idea, and Cody was familiar with NONE of this, so day one was about him getting used to all the leather squeaking, pulling and pinching in unfamiliar places, and noises behind him, out of sight. He did very well, the lad. We 'lunged' him round in circles for a while, then Charlotte led him from behind as if in the cart, steering him with the bit. Finally we tried him on his first 'load', just a car tyre. This was to get him used to the idea of the gentle (and sometimes catchy-jerking) tug on his harness plus the noise of the tyre sliding along the road on its little chain.

One of the fascinations for me, beginner that I am, is Charlotte's running commentary as we work away. The local old boys, rather than be annoyed that they are being held up by two muppets blocking the road with a horse pulling a tyre, will melt with nostalgia as they remember the horses they had to break in before and after "the Emergency" (WW2). This is very gentle breaking-in we are doing. The Gypsies break their horses "hard" but you know what? They are the quietest horses you can get - if you want to put a small child or a beginner on a horse, then horses broken by our Traveler friends are the perfect choice.

Guinea fowl inner feather

Unfortunately for Cody, in the middle of all this, Charlotte spotted a small patch of 'Rain Scald' on Cody's back. This is a bacterial ailment which happens mainly in wet weather where the horse fails to use your nice rain shelter and stands around outside, permanently wet. It is itchy and results in small patches of scabby skin and small tufts of hair coming out, but if caught soon, it is easy to cure. Cody has been taken home to spend some time in the dry of a stable (enforced dryness!) while being given tea-tree shampoo baths and some TLC. His hair is re-growing already. We were going to buy him a get well card but maybe that's a bit soft!

Meanwhile we are happy to report that Goldie the rabbit has now 2 perfectly clean, pink, mite-free ears and Lieutenant Colonel Sir Bufton-Tufton is also off the endangered list, strutting around and looking after the needs of his various women. Following up on a lead from Mentor Anne, we have also found a source of good, vintage Cheddar cheese which satisfies us, this being one John McMillan and his stand "Carlton Cheese and Olives" who do Saturdays at Boyle Farmer's Market. We also came by some good Wensleydale and some hard goats cheese (plus some pesto olives) so we are cheesed up for now. Thank you for that, Anne.

€100 Euro's worth of bee gear. Frames, smoker, hive tool

Finally, we are back off to the "Two Marys" today to collect the remaining parts of our hive, the frames, wax foundation and nails, plus our smoker and hive-tool. We love these ladies, They are so helpful and generous with their advice, happily talking us through all manner of nips and tucks which we might be able to do ourselves rather than spending €8 or so in their own shop (on a 3-frames-wide 'dummy' frame to reduce the space available for the newly established colony lest the brood get chilled). They also chat away happily about which hive-tool you might prefer to prise frames away from each other when the bees have glued them all solid with 'propolis'.

Tomorrow we are back into visitor mode, potentially with 12 for lunch. The biggest pork leg joint you ever saw (6.2 kg) is in the oven getting a very gentle roast to a 24 hour (!) recipe, chocolate mousse cakes have been made, ice cream bought and a rhubarb and date crumble constructed. Bring on the Silverwoods who are showing up divided between a train journey for the car-overflow and a car bringing a hand-me-down fridge-freezer from the Steak Lady, plus the Cody-owning crew from down the road, Carolyn, Charlotte, K-Dub and young H. Chaos? It probably will be!