Eat Your Vegetables!

Ross (l) and Somerville (r)

Our tiny pigs, Somerville and Ross are both nicely settled in now to our place and our ways. This may be the case every year (you forget) but they seem so tiny to me, probably because the last pigs we had were our departing Berkshires; long since gone through 'tiny' to become hulking 70-80 kg beasts. When the new ones turn up I worry that they are so small they will get through the gaps in the sheep-wire and it takes me a few weeks to relax into the idea that they might like it here and stay voluntarily, even if they could escape.

Ross is a galia melon kind of girl.

These two were immediately the most friendly and tame newcomers we have ever met. Real charmers. Within 24 hours I could feed them from a bowl which I still held, and now, a week later they are both sprinting up to me on my arrival and 'asking' for food. Somerville (the 'spotless', sandy one) is perhaps a lot more chummy that Ross (she of the many black spots and blotches). The former will allow me to scratch her head, shoulders and flanks and is all over me nuzzling into pockets and wellies. The latter, Ross, is a bit more shy, only allowing a little touching of her forehead.

Somerville prefers a tomato.

In a previous post I said that I was a bit worried about their lack of appetite. They seemed fixed on the wetted grain-mix that I got from the breeder and turned their noses up at my 'proper' commercial pig-ration. They also ignored my offerings of apple and carrot. 'What manner of pigs are these?', I worried, 'that they won't eat anything? Were we going to have to teach them to eat their vegetables like naughty children? We are through all that now as I ran out of good breeder-mix. They are now piling into my 1/3 : 2/3 mix of barley and pig-nuts and happily accepting apple, tomato, carrot and galia melon. That is a relief.

They are also lovely looking, attractive animals and I have been able to get some lovely pictures of them glowing in the afternoon sun as they wander about in the grass patch up the side of their 'woods' next to the goose orchard. They are completely unfazed by the arrival of a camera lens close to their pile of fruit. We have great hopes for them and they might just have knocked our belovéd Tamworths off the top of the "most favoured breeds" list.

Happy pig-butts

Meanwhile on 'veg' Liz continues to do the swimming lessons thing with the ducklings and both of us are finding, as usual, that the official diet of pure chick-crumb is just plain boring. The ducks enjoy dibbling the crumbs up from the surface of their bath but they just look like they should be grazing up greenery and vitamins. We had some curly kale in the fridge (for us, of course) and Liz wondered whether if she finely chopped this and set it afloat on the 'bath' water, the ducklings might enjoy that. Well, talk about feeding frenzy! 6 ducklings were immediately in the water splashing it every where as they scrabbled up the bits of kale. No problem with them eating their veg.

We are fast approaching the time when we can let them out into the rabbit runs on sunny afternoons for an hour or so, and, as they become more waterproof, we will also give them a try out on the big pond. We KNOW that ducks can wreck a pond but this is a BIG pond (6m by 10 m) and there are only 6 ducklings, so we are willing to risk it. If the pond starts to suffer we may re-think this plan and confine them to a smaller run with some kind of kiddies' paddling pool, but the photo's wont be anything like as good.

Born on the 10th April

This is my 1500th post on this blog. Just thought I'd say that. A little bit proud of the fact.

Hubbard chick on Day 6

It is about time we had a bit of a catch-up on livestock as there is so much going on at the moment I can lose track of whether I have left any stories hanging; I wonder is there anybody out there wishing I'd tell them how 'it all ended up' with the Guinea Fowl. So not very entertaining this time, more a status report.

Weighing chicks in batches to get
an average - they are 91 g on Day 6

The biggest news is that we have now heard from the pig breeding people in response to my progress check query; 'our' pigs were born on the 10th April so they are roughly 4 weeks old now and we can collect them at 8 weeks old on Thursday 5th June. We are all very excited about this, keen to get them here, set them down in the pig-patch and see how we get on. We were down at Anne+Simon's today where they have their pigs for just over a week and I have to admit to being amazed about how much rooting and digging theirs have done in such a short time, and how deep are some of the rooting holes. They have gone with electric fence all round the run, I am hoping that a high tensile strand of barbed at ground level will deter little noses from trying to get under the fence, but now that I have seen the depth of the digging I am doubting my decision. I may have to go with electric fence after all. We live and learn.

The Hubbard chicks arrived on 1st May and are doing fine. We started them in a plastic crate inside wire-mesh dog crate to protect them from dogs and cats. They have already outgrown this and moved on to a bigger crate which they will inevitably also out-grow. Their future fate depends on a number of things. We would love to get them out into the sunshine to feel grass under their feet and start to scratch in the dirt like 'proper' chickens but it needs to be warm and dry for that.

We also have a Buff Orpington hen currently sitting on eggs which are due to hatch tomorrow. However, although she is in the groove now and keeping them all warm, she is a first-time Mum and was not brilliant at it in the early days. She trod on or kicked and broke most of the original 7 eggs - we are down to only 2 now (plus 2 dummy eggs to keep it feeling OK under her). She also used to let them 'leak' out from under her skirts and we'd find them stone cold and try to sneak them back under her, so the remaining 2 eggs may well be chilled to death. She may produce a miracle tomorrow and actually hatch a chick or two but we are thinking that if she doesn't, by about Sunday (4 days late) we might try to substitute the failed eggs with a Hubbard chick or two (and then 12 ! ) to see if she will adopt them and rear them. Our 2013 champion 'clocker' Broody Betty has not showed any signs of wanting to go broody yet.

Bloodied and relegated but un-bowed.
Our original rooster, William

While we're on chickens, we have had a change of dynamic 'at the top'. We came home one day to find William badly cut about the back of the head and with blood splashed into his cape feathers. The Buff Orpington 'roo' was clean of feather, although with a little dried blood on his face and a whole new confident strut about him. We are certain that the two boys had another big fight while we were out and Buffers must have jumped on top of William and held him down for a good pecking. Buffers has no spurs. Now William is very much the underdog and hangs on the periphery of the flock with a couple of loyal females while Buffers struts and Cock-a-doodle-doos with the bulk of them. If he tried to mount one, William used to come running to push him off. Not any more. The fight was a(nother) one-off and does not seem to have been repeated. William's cuts have scabbed over and the rain is cleaning up his feathers. He will be back to his old magnificence soon but will presumably have to accept his new role as Number 2. Oh and we lost our lovely Black 'Jersey Giant' hen, after a sudden and very quick-onset illness which we have no idea what it was. That is sometimes the way with poultry. Like all birds - they work to such fast systems and rates that when something goes wrong it can go wrong very quickly. The old adage in the poultry world is that they do not go sick, they go from healthy to dead. It is good for the vet bills but a bit galling when you lose a favourite. She was a tame and friendly soul. RIP Blackie. Lovely slow-cookered stew, mind.

Full grown Hubbard hens from the 2013 day-olds.

The white Guinea Fowl, Blondie, was never seen again and never reported to us by any neighbours or friends, so we guess we have to give up on her. Just somebody we used to know. Henry and Min are now trying another nest and clutch, we think, this time is a much more perilous position than their 100 yards-off-the-road previous effort. We think she is laying deep in the (12 foot thick) snow-berry hedge almost opposite the house. While she sneaks in to lay the egg each day Henry stands on the grass verge trying to look innocent, being noticed (and frequently reported to us!) by those same passers by and neighbours. We cannot find the nest and do not want to tread down too much verge trying, so we cross our fingers and pray fervently for the half hour they are out there and dread the 28 day (?) incubation period when she may be out there continuously and Henry, bless him, may THINK he should stand guard in his verge grass. Thankfully most neighbours know and expect Guinea Fowl, so they drive with care and the birds are also street-wise and sensible; they stand still and do not try to run in a panic across the road. We just know that if we hit the hurly burly of rush about silage cutting season the machinery flying about might not be as merciful.

In the goose department, things are a bit more secure and less confused. Black Feather (pictured) is solidly sitting and just comes off the eggs for 20 minutes a day for a bathe, eat and toilet-break. The 12 eggs, when we can get at them are intact and lovely and warm. They are due to hatch next Monday (12th May). I have constructed a wee gosling ramp so that they can get back into the nest should they go exploring - the nest is in a feed manger 6 inches above ground level. A concrete cliff to a gosling. They now have a gentle plywood incline to get home up. The other female goose, Smudge, has come back into lay and has now dropped a further 6 shiny clean eggs into Black Feather's nest, but we can easily spot these and remove them.

At least 9 little fat bellies. 

Goldie-rabbit's babies are now 8 days old and we can sometimes sneak a peek at them. In the warm they let the fur nest open at the top and you can see enough legs, ears and closed-eye faces in the tangled pile of 'kittens' to estimate that there are at least 9 babies. Well done Goldie. Our rabbit-expert, owner of the 'sire' and friend, Charlotte had a look today and pronounced herself very pleased with their plump little bellies - a sure sign that Goldie is delivering plenty of milk. They should start leaving the fur-ball nest to explore the 'bedroom' in the next few days, but it might not be till they are 3 weeks old, before anybody emerges into the sunshine.

Selfie. 

Non-breeding rabbits Ginny and Padfoot are fine but not doing anything reportable. Our 2014 lambs are still with their Mums, suckling away. We will not see them till July. The bees are also still only a dream, we hope growing fast and rapidly expanding their parent colonies in Drumshanbo so that we can have our 'Nuke' (Nucleus colony) as planned in June. Dogs and cats are also fine but not doing anything note-worthy unless you count Poppy's lightning-fast-despatch of a mouse which Rolo did not even mean to give to her. We humans are also OK, enjoying our spring time after what seemed like a long, wet January, February and March.

Diagonal Door and Panini

Oh what a perfect day (I'm glad I spent it with you). Not only have we have the builders round again which means plenty of torn off bits of cheese sandwich, bacon roll and cheese/ham panini (Old John has not yet learned to avoid our imploring looks, even though Dad scolds him). The guys have put up the door which sits neatly diagonally across the end of the hall (we have not yet been officially told that it's main purpose is to keep us at the back of the house when the humans are out), so we think Mum will be delighted.

It's a gorgeous honey oak, just waiting for some nice oil to be rubbed into it. There will be a glazed panel above it, and it has 2 windows, so will allow plenty of light through in either direction. They have also started on the ceiling work.

We also got taken out, all three of us, in the 2CV to go collect the old project car, Mademoiselle, to take her for a nice blast through all the country lanes across to Lew's workshop, where we are all allowed out for a good sniff around, There are old farm buildings and greenhouses so plenty of chicken-y and ratty smells to chase, as well as beer-drinking, tea-drinking Jack Russell "Rosie" to talk to.

We do, though create a minor drama when we stray too near some pigs in a field. Lew runs to rescue us in alarm. Dad is quite knowledgeable around farming but has no experience of pigs, and wasn't aware that pigs will quite happily surround and kill a dog, tearing it to peices if they get a chance. Could've told me!

Dad does not think it was such a perfect day though, just because he gets chauffeured around all the builders merchants in Canterbury shelling out for french windows here, a door there, wood there and laminated flooring there..... He's gone for a lie down.

Deefer (pah! Pigs! I wasn't scared!)

Röf, Röf

One of the gang who went on the La Chapelle trip is a lovely Hungarian lady called Zsuzsa (the "zs" is pronounced exactly like the French "j" in "je" or "j'aime").

The project car already has a name, as you know, "Mademoiselle", but the other car they took didn't. It's a very rare (as in, there are only 3 left in UK in roadgoing condition) UK-built 2CV. They were made only for a few years (1955 to 1958, I think; correct me if I'm wrong) in the Citroen factory in Slough. For the anoraks among you, they are identifiable by three things - rear opening windows (flap-up style, like the normal 2CV front ones), the round Citroen bonnet-mascot, and the Morris 1000-style flick-up "trafficator" indicators (see photo).

When he/she had completed the La Chapelle run, the humans all decided that he/she should be Christened with a proper name like "Mmle", so that she could not just be "the Slough-built", and the task fell to Zsuzsa. She, commenting on one of the noises that the car makes was reminded of a Hungarian children's nursery rhyme where-in a pig who normally makes the noise "Röf Röf" ( it's pronounced kind of "rerf" (like the vowel sound in surf)) but when rootling and snuffling for truffles etc, is reckoned to be saying "Töf Töf"

Don't tell me you don't get culture on this blog

Have a great weekend

Deefski