Showing posts with label Shakespeare. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shakespeare. Show all posts

Thursday, 6 December 2018

Where there is Livestock there is Dead Stock

Gandalf's end. The stock pot.
My title this week is that hackneyed old trope much used by we smallholders as a form of tough, fatalistic sympathy (not good to show too much emotion - these are not pets after all!) when we or colleagues lose an animal. We'd love to be able to keep them all alive and healthy for ever but, no, as Shakespeare would (nearly) have it,

"All the farm’s a stage,
And all the birds and animals merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances......."



New Sheriff in town..... "Lucky"
So on Monday 3rd Dec our lovely 'alpha' rooster, pure-bred Marans "Gandalf the Grey" died for no discernible reason. He was in the coop and fell off his perch in the afternoon, found stiff and flat on the ground (but not fully cold) by Elizabeth at 'supper' time. He'd be about 2 years old, hatched in July 2016 from eggs we bought from Mayo-Liz's farrier and has been a fine rooster, beautiful looking and an excellent minder of his ladies. He was also very fertile and his DNA is in most of this year's hatch babies.

This made us smile - a gift of 6 cushions depicting cats on bikes.
Ah well, he ended up in the stock pot and his replacement, as far as we can tell (for now anyway) is a honey-coloured 6 month old youngster whom we are calling 'Lucky". Now THERE is bird who deserves his name and has had a very interesting life. He is lucky to be still with us. We are fairly sure "it was him" anyway. Back in May (22nd or so) he hatched under the hen we were then calling 'Cat Basket Lady' but got left out of the nest one 'nap time' and could not hop over the lip back to Mum's warmth. We found him 9/10 dead and cold on the concrete. I cupped him in my hands to get some warmth back into him and over 10-15 minutes he slowly came to, kicking and wriggling with increasing strength till I thought he was back with us. I slipped him back in under Mum and he lived to fight another day.

Plenty fruit in the diet now.
Weeks later he managed to hop up into a bucket, half filled with water and then jumped down in. The water was too deep for him to touch bottom, so he couldn't jump out again and was doomed to tread water, squeaking pitifully till he got waterlogged and sank. When you have tiny chicks, never leave them able to access water deeper than about 2 inches. Luckily I happened to go into the yard and heard him so was able to save his little life again and put him back with Mum. Since then he has survived all the fox attacks and also our culls of excess roosters. So, here he is now, promoted to the New Sheriff. Big boots to fill, Lucky. No pressure. He may only be 6 months old but I saw him 'nail' a hen this morning so at least he understands that part of the job description.

The fruit for the Christmas cake sits overnight steeping in an odd
mix of booze. Mum-in-Law had had a de-clutter of the dog-ends
from her drinks cabinet from last year.
What else is new as we bimble gently in towards Christmas like ski-ers on the gentlest blue run? Stir-up Sunday finally arrived on the Tuesday and all those part-mixed bowls of goodness were moved on to become cooked pud or cake. The cake is sitting a few days to mature before I will get amongst it with marzipan and icing. I have a good idea for the design but I'm keeping that under my hat for now.

Village Christmas Party
There was a very successful Christmas Party for the villagers down at the Village 'Centre' (Memorial Hall). Everyone works really hard to make these happen. The hall is laid out magnificently with all the festive napkins and what-not and the ladies all bring along great bowls of the various foods. You pay for the food and (if you like) bring along your own booze and something to drink it out of. The place was satisfyingly packed and everybody was very happy with the evening. A good success.

Lisacul 2019 Calendar.
The 2019 Lisacul Village Calendar has also been designed and printed and is now being sold. Once again it is mainly based on photographs taken for the '365' project but this year has a nice refreshing theme running through it. Each month has a village scene but also an inset picture of some local refreshments - tea, cake, soup etc and the front cover says "Will you have a cup of tea while you're here?" It is a lovely thing to have. If you, dear reader(s) got one from us last year then, do not worry, you will get another this year. They are nearly in the post. If you would like one, the the Village website is the place.

https://www.facebook.com/pg/lisacultoday/posts/?ref=notif

Getting back into the sourdough making.
Meanwhile, lest anyone forget that I am still soldiering on, a martyr to my suffering (OK I'm basically OK and pain-free but bear with me while I indulge myself in a couple of amusing 'sick' stories). Fluid retention. It's gone decidedly weird on me. This, you will recall is due to the general inefficiency of the current version of my heart (leaky valve) which is failing to move fluids properly around my body. When I was in hospital back in July, this was all about swollen ankles and we all watched with interest as they swelled or deflated day by day. Then a few weeks later this problem went away and it was all about knees. Now that version is also no longer in fashion and I have a taut band of 'swollen' around my gut but very high up; liver/diaphragm level. I have always had a bit of a 'beer belly' down in the standard place, bulging gently over my trouser waist-band, but this is like a high-up 10-pints a night thing. It seems most unfair given that I have not touched beer for months and am eating precious little. I offer up a fervent prayer that the heart surgery, once complete will sort all this out and move all this fluid (if such is what it is) on and out.

We are both impressed by this tin that
came around latest gin. We think that,
with the (plastic) lid off, it will make a nice
Christmas candle holder.
Finally I am mercifully nearly through my month of iron supplement tablets. I hate those things with a passion. They upset my system in too many ways. Everyone gets the unpleasant black sticky poo, I think, but I also suffer a month of farting, belching and feeling a continuous, low level nausea. It is just on the edge, there, of nearly but not quite starting to feel sick. I never have (vomited, I mean) though I've had a few episodes of dry-retching. It's all very unsettling and depressing of appetite. I approach every meal wondering whether it is wise to eat it. Ah well, only 5 more days to go on that one. I will then keep a low profile and hope that the GP does not remember she put me on it and needs to see whether it worked! :-). Not really - I will, of course follow all the medical advice as best I can.

Enough for this one. Till the next time. Good luck now.

Tuesday, 21 August 2018

Much Ado About Ernesto.

Friends of the blog will know that Elizabeth loves her Shakespeare. You get very little of that standard of culture performed round these parts, so when we saw advertised a performance of "Much Ado About Nothing" by a group called the Pilgrim Players, she mentally signed up immediately. This was to be an outdoor, bring a picnic, performance in the grounds of the former Bishop's Palace (Edmondstown House) just outside Ballaghaderreen. I must confess that I cried off, thinking that 4 hours sitting out of doors in a cooling evening might be beyond me at this stage. Mrs C, not discouraged, was determined to go on her own if necessary.

Storm Ernesto's predicted track
With terrible timing, the weather forecast told us of a surprise named storm, Storm Ernesto barging through on that Saturday night with yellow warnings for wind and heavy rain, so Elizabeth donned coat, hat and umbrella and made sure her picnic was in a waterproof bag and Tupperware pots. You have to respect that determination and commitment.

The birds have quickly adopted the new roof timbers as
perches.
Fair play to the venue organisers, the seating area was equipped with straw bales and chairs, and slung over with parachute silk to keep off any light weather. It also had a space at the front where the players could nip in under cover with the audience and say their lines from very close range if need be. When mozzies started to be a problem, Elizabeth bartered some biscuits and clementines for a lend of a nearby man's insect repellent spray.

Connie (arrowed)  has ended her marathon broody-session
and come back to join the flock.
So, they all sat down and enjoyed the start of what proved to be a really good performance as the rain started to fall in earnest, quickly, soaking through the parachute silk and drenching the audience. Ernesto was just too powerful and mean-spirited in the end and Elizabeth got very wet and cold, but the play was only 75 minutes long, so she stuck it out with the rest of the audience. They even got to chat with the cast out front at the end. She was soon back indoors, complete change of clothes into the 'onesie', gin and tonic in her hand. Shame for a hoped for lovely evening as well as for the others in the audience and the players. We've had three months of heat wave, drought and perfect outdoor Shakespeare conditions, so it as a real shame that this all collapsed on the evening 18th August. We heard great things about the other 'shows', matinée and evening. We hope the venue and players are not put off organising more such plays next year.

The digging of the raised bed almost complete. Rain stopped
play about half an hour from the end. 
On the Sunday, two very good friends of the blog had offered to come and help with the hard work, knowing of my 'light duties' status and our Help-X blow-out. Specifically the guy of this couple was offering to do some hours of the heavy digging across the raised flower bed, easily worth a good evening meal and an overnight stay. These good people actually ended up doing a couple of other jobs as well and Elizabeth was inspired to some superb cooking to reward everybody.

There are some interesting colour schemes among this
year's hatched birds.
The evening meal was our 'Parma' style ham with melon, with a superb roast lamb (ours)  as main course with cauliflower (ours) cheese and 'Boulangere' potatoes, then Sussex Pond Pudding. You get an extra thrill at the good food when you know that many  of the ingredients are grown just outside the door. We have done very well for herbs this year, so even the mint in the mint sauce was picked and chopped minutes before serving. The fruit jelly for the meat (I *think* crab apple and red currant) was also ours.

The Bumbles are now half grown adolescents and spend a good
bit of each day (and some nights) away from Mum
If you are not familiar with  Sussex Pond, then it is a sweet suet pud (our suet, naturally) flavoured just by an organic lemon or bits there-of and cubes of soft brown sugar. No actual filling; just the oozing, sugared lemony-ness of the inner suet crust. Cream is available to 'cut' its richness. Although I was born and raised in Sussex, I cannot actually recall being fed it as a kiddie. Pud Lady (Mum) may want to correct me on that one.

Finally, a sheep story and another report of generous help from our lovely friends and neighbours. This concerns our youngest bought-in ewe, Myfanwy, who is about 4 years old at this stage and who, alone, did not get pregnant last winter. Over the last 18 months or so, I had noticed that Myf' periodically seemed to get a Jungle Book style itch in the middle of her back, about a foot forward of her 'tail'.

Myfanwy's sore, itchy patch.
She would rub herself at this spot under any convenient piece of hedge, fence or their shelter. She would wear down through the wool and start to break the skin, so that she sometimes oozed a little blood and it looked angry. Then she seemed to get over it, stopped itching it so that it all dried up, healed over, grew new wool and we all forgot all about it till the next time. These gaps were often months long and only when you saw her doing it again did it occur that this was the same place as last time. The raw patches were only ever an inch or so across. I never found any fly strike or other skin problems while shearing.

Nobody gets to refuse the worm/fluke drench when Charlotte
is in charge. 
Suddenly this year, she is at it again and has itched a huge patch, a good 5 inches across. Some of this patch is healed over, but to its left edge, the red-raw is looking serious. Small flies are starting to show a keen interest and they will not be helping the healing by keep on making tiny, irritating bites. I have tried to contact our vet but she is so busy these days that she rarely replies. I put out a plea on the Facebook small holder groups but did not get anything useful back - plenty of old wives' tales (Stockholm Tar, used sump oil, sheep dip, old Ivermectin (parasite-icide) you might have lying about, etc).

Charlotte messin' with the lotions and potions
Luckily, very good old friend of the blog, respected stock-wrangler and near neighbour Charlotte (of the Mini Horses) read of my plight and volunteered to come round, look at the sheep and do any treatment within her power. I drove out to collect her this lunchtime. Like me, she could find no maggots or any signs of other parasites - lice, fleas, eggs, poo - and the skin away from the lesion was all pale pink and healthy deep down between the wool. These guys tend to gather at the warmest spots on the sheep, so spine, kidneys and shoulders.

The ducks and drakes are starting to sort themselves out by
their green heads and curly tail feathers. 
General discomfort and irritation at skin level can sometimes be caused by worms internally, so we decided to worm/fluke drench the whole flock and to lather Myfanwy's lesion in a thick, coconut-oil like cream (actually meant for humans) called Pinewood's "Emulsifying Ointment BP". This might sting a bit on the open wounds when it first went on but soon calmed down and is thick enough that even as it warmed up to skin temperature it would not run off or get washed off. The little flies would hate it and they did, immediately stopping their landings and exploratory walking across the wound.

Deefer
I must now watch the sheep closely for a while, and apply new cream every couple of days or after heavy rain (basically as soon as I see more flies). I must also look out for scour (diarrhoea) which is a sign that the sheep may well have been carrying worms and are now shedding them (dead). This can upset their systems and would mean we'd need to re-dose after 4 weeks to catch any stragglers.

Towser
Ah well. That is enough for this one. Still no sign of the AWOL cat or the AWOL Guinea Hen, so these may not get mentioned again unless we get firm news (preferably good!). Everybody else is bimbling along just fine. It occurs to me that you have not seen pics of the dogs lately, so I will leave you with pics of all three taken today.

Poppea.
Have a good week.

Friday, 9 January 2015

Brush Up Your Shakespeare

Guzzling Mum's colostrum.
Our little "miracle baby" is thriving so far and this morning he was amusing himself with some first of those springing jumps off all 4 feet, that they do. He is alone so far and, unless his 'Aunt' Polly was also 'got at' by the youngsters with whom these ladies were running up till Aug/Sept, then he'll presumably have to wait till March 25th to get any playmates - he'll be looking a bit less lamb-like by then, all being well. We will just have to see he gets extra fuss and TLC so that he doesn't miss that side of life. He has already had his first admirer come visit, a friend from down the lane brought her 8 year old daughter for a look and a cuddle.

A 12th-Night clown?
But what to name him? We had put out on the usual internet discussion group circuit that we needed a name which might evoke any of the following: Surprise, very early, unexpected, wind-blown wet acres or even first-born. They'd only come up with 'Heathcliffe' (from the windy-wet thing) but then I spotted that the little guy had actually been born on Twelfth Night at which Liz's ears pricked up!

Liz is this family's literature expert and learnĂ©d well-read Shakespeare scholar so she was straight into the Bard's play 'Twelfth Night'  and found the name of the clown/jester character, which is 'Feste' (I am told you pronounce this 'Festay'). I have to confess to not knowing this play well but we do have a DVD of the Trevor Nunn film version starring Helena Bonham Carter. Richard E Grant, Nigel Hawthorne, Mel Smith, Imogen Stubbs and, as Feste himself, Sir Ben Kingsley, no less. I love this film  and I can remember that the clown has a regular, repeated singing part which goes...

"Hey, ho, the wind and the rain, and the rain it raineth every day"

That seemed particularly appropriate for our little lamb just now; it seems to have rained every day since I managed to scrabble in the last of the spud harvest. As I was harvesting I was looking about me mentally listing all the other garden jobs that need doing (mainly tidying, cutting down raspberries and so on). I have been able to do none of these! Feste he is then. He is indoors today but, weather permitting, the family will get some outdoor exercise tomorrow, (Maternity Unit Matron) Mayo Liz has advised "Saturday or Sunday".

We have also been having some fun in a related area suggesting I might need to "Brush up (my) Shakespeare" which you may know is a very good song from the musical Kiss me Kate and given to some devilish rhyming as the song builds on the theme that the way to successfully charm your gal is to quote at her from the Bard

Just declaim a few lines from Othella
And they'll think you're a hell of a fella
If your blonde won't respond when you flatter 'er
Tell her what Tony told Cleopatterer

and

With the wife of the British ambessida
Try a crack out of Troilus and Cressida
If she says she won't buy it or tike it
Make her tike it, what's more As You Like It

(Ah well, maybe you had to be there! - if you fancy a listen to a good 'original' try

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-CSb3Xe06s

or similar)

It stains well, this lamb-medicine. Apparently it is how proper
shepherds recognise one another in shop queues and pubs; either
brown of iodine or the purple of foot rot spray!
Meanwhile, even though pinned down indoors by the rain, work goes on. Our chum JD Bob is a bit under the weather lately with flu so I was down there yesterday on cattle feeding duties, shoveling wads of silage to his indoor-housed twenty bullocks (always amused by the fact that locally "cows/cattle" means just the females, so if you ask a farmer does he have cattle, you are likely to get the trip-up answer, 'I don't; I only have weanlings and bullocks') I have also started culling out the young Buff Orpington roosters who have started to cause trouble with their battling with each other and aggression towards the smaller of our existing adult hens. Liz is plucking and dressing the first one even as I type this. Being a big breed, these guys are not fully grown even though they are at 22/23 weeks, so they make rather small carcasses (certainly compared to the meaty Hubbards we were doing most recently!). The first went 'oven ready' at 1.984 kg. Not bad.