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.

Going Once....Going Twice...

Crack! The (nominal) gavel comes down on our long running local drama, "The Sale of the Land". Back in early September I posted that the 28 acres of land around us had gone up for sale and that we were considering buying one of the fields. ( http://deefer-dawg.blogspot.ie/2016/09/field-of-dreams.html ). Back when we bought this place we took a small (2.5 acres) chunk out of what had been a 30 acre farm, in our case the house and buildings and the fields immediately surrounding. In the process we became good friends with one of the three sisters selling the place, 'Vendor Anna' on this blog.

No relevance to this story - just a '365'
pic I snatched of a water-well drilling rig
which parked in the village.

The three sisters held on to the remaining 28 acres for 4 years but have now put the land up for auction. They very generously created an option for us to buy the 1.5 acre field opposite in which we had registered an interest. We had to have a good old poke around in the dusty corners of the cupboard labelled "Our Financial Life" but alas, no such lump of 'wedge' presented itself and we had to pass on the option. Well, this sale has now gone through without us and we have a new neighbour. You don't win them all. Never say 'Never', though. The field is likely to remain right there and just maybe, in a couple of years when the cupboard might be a bit more yielding.......

Dry cured hams awaiting their 8 months (or so) of air drying.

Meanwhile, back in the bit we did manage to buy, plenty of stories are still chugging along happily. The big, complete pig legs we saved at butchery time for our version of Parma/Serrano ham have now completed their 21 day stay in the dry cure mix (3 parts salt, 1 part sugar, various spices, refrigerator) and come ready to be scrubbed clean of the encrusted cure (using cider vinegar properly but I used white vinegar), bagged in their muslin sleeves and hung up in a well ventilated, cool, dry place for (the recipe says) 4-18 months. Our plan is to try the first one next summer (so about 10 months) and save one for Christmas 2017 (14 months). The air drying is to get the lovely sweet Serrano flavours. The salt cure is to give us a head start in the not-very-Spanish local climate. If you hang up uncured meat in the West of Ireland in October, I think you'd just generate a maggot-sanctuary in a bit of a hurry.

The hams hang in their muslin sleeves.
We will hide them up when guests are
using the room!

The first print-run on the village calendar has sold out and we know that many have already left the country en route to their delighted recipients. We have had delighted feedback from the UK  and I have also posted them to Germany and Canada. Liz is already taking orders for a 2nd print run. The village website is widely seen as a great success and gets plenty of 'traffic' both locally and from people who have connections back to the area but now live abroad, the 'Diaspora'. It is to the website that many people are going to register their interest and place their order(s).

Liz has given up trying to knit here and is reduced to playing
a game on the laptop as long as the 'kattens' do not try to
eclipse her view. The laptop is up on the cookbook 'lectern'
to stop tiny feet walking on the keyboard. 

Our other main  'project' if you can call it that, is to try to integrate the "kattens" (they are too big to be called kittens any more but not yet big enough to be called 'cats'). They are almost 6 months old now and not too vulnerable to doggie molestation. They can jump up onto safe high places and make themselves quite big by arching their backs, bog-brushing their tails and hissing and spitting. The dogs tend to stop and think about it now.

Lovely colour from the beech trees in the
(now empty) pig-run

Most evenings and sometimes during the day when we are around to supervise, we open the door through to their Sitting Room and let them come through to explore and enjoy the family, fire-warmed company of the Dining Table. They love it and we are starting to believe that we may actually get these cats through from kittenhood without either of them suffering death (or injury) by dog. We do not yet trust them all together unsupervised, however, so they can not yet have the "access all areas" freedom enjoyed by our adult cats, the fearless 'Soldier' and the big-enough-to-damage-the-dogs, alpha-male 'Blue'.

Borrowed ram-lamb Silas has still not, to our knowledge, succeeded in mounting any of the ewes (no give-away blue painted rumps at the breakfast bar) but he has settled down with the ladies and is now very much inside the flock. I frequently see him in close company with the big ewe 'Myfanwy' and the youngster, 'Rosie'. The experts tell me that this is all OK and that ewes, even when they are in season, only come receptive to the ram on a 13-18 day cycle (average 17). We don't know where they were before Silas arrived, so we have no idea how many days we need to wait. If they weren't on at all, then the presence of a ram should bring them round. Happily, Sue says we can keep Silas for as long as we like or need, even through Christmas, so the lad has plenty of time to grow into the big boots left behind by the mighty 'Rambo', our 2015 tup.

I owe him an apology, though. In my previous post, I suggested that he was named for the biblical Silas who spent time with St Paul; Sue had said something about the diagonal white cross he had on his face as a young one. Apparently not. He is named after 'My Uncle Silas' in the HE Bates books because he is a country boy and Sue hopes he will be a disreputable, fun-loving, philandering rogue. Especially the philandering, I would think. I had not heard of these books, but Sue and Rob loved a TV series from 2001 starring Albert Finney as Silas and gave him the name in memory of it. Go Silas.

Namaste, Goat Meat and 'Mush'

We love this conjunction of an orange
"red hot poker" and the autumn leaves
at the 'top' of Ballaghaderreen. It needs
slanting morning sunshine to set it on
fire but this pic gives you some idea

"Namaste" (nama-stay). Roughly translated from the Hindu, it says "I bow to the Divine within you" and is said with that well known palms-together, fingers pointing upwards, greeting gesture you see on so many statues and pictures. It is how Yoga students traditionally greet each other and thank each other at the end of a session. So at the end of 8 weeks I come to the end of my Yoga instruction 'term', 6 weeks of 'men's beginner' classes and then 2 more sessions we "might as well do to bring us up to 'half term' "

Liz found this lovely bowl at the Dublin "Knit and Stitch" Show

We started out with half a dozen blokes but that suddenly crashed in week 4 to just 2 of us, myself and a lad called Jim. He then dropped out and was replaced by a guy named Padraig so I was the only person to do all 8. Unfortunately this attrition has made the instructor decide not to run the 'men' sessions on after Hallowe'en, so if we want to continue we'd have to brave the ladies' "mixed ability" sessions or seek out a men's session somewhere else. We'll see.

The remaining orchard pears were used in this gorgeous
pear and chocolate gooey dessert with almonds, best eaten
warm with ice cream, advised Liz. I'm not arguing!

I feel that the sessions have done me a world of good in terms of increasing my flexibility, suppleness and, yes, my strength and balance. For those who have not met the 'discipline' those pictures you see of people in odd poses are not the whole story. The exercise and the good it does come from getting into those positions. They work by forcing the student to bend or balance or lean like that and then, when the hamstrings or joints are twanging and screaming for relief, encouraging him/her to stay in that pain, relax and breathe, allowing each exhale to 'sag' the body into even more stretch. In theory the instructor is saying "Don't over-do it. Only go as far as is comfortable, If it hurts too much come back into the 'child pose' or something easier on the joints or muscles"  In practise you are warmed up, into it, focused and you push yourself. All the major muscle blocks warm up beautifully and the sweat starts to drip down your face and your back and there is no way you are going to 'wuss' and sit that one out. Namaste.

Note the bare brown mud inside this run and the green grass
outside.

On a completely different subject, one of my private bug-bears is small holders who over-stock their ground so intensely that the vegetation is annihilated and the animals or birds are walking around in a brown desert of bare mush or wood chippings. The animals get bedraggled and sorry looking. Chickens in particular hate to be wet and to have to stand somewhere wet. They like to be able to get dry and (preferably) to be able to dust-bathe. They like to preen and I love to see them on dry, green, sunlit grass, bright of eye, clean of leg and immaculate of feather. 'Mush' is bad.

A rather grubby collection of "white" Hubbards at 80 days.

Most 'petting zoos' fall into this trap, cramming so many birds and animals into the space either side of the visitors' path so that the kiddies can be near them, that the visitors only see muddy, sad birds wading through the dead mush where no worms or grubs have lived for ages. We try to keep all our birds fully free range but you will recall that we made an exception of the Hubbards this year, looking to keep them (and their voluminous poo!) out of the yard and the barns. Well, we had such a wet summer and autumn that the big pen I built for them was rapidly destroyed by the growing poults and I found myself doing exactly the 'mud farming' here which I have just said that I abhor. As a result, the Hubbards at 80 days, have been allowed out. I was sure they would not invade the yard nor stray too far from 'home' and this proved to be the case. They wander out of the run and enjoy the green grass and the willow 'fedge' and the margins of the pond. They can scratch for grubs here successfully and dust bathe in the dry bits. They are immediately cleaner and happier looking. Every time I feed them they follow me and my food-tub back home and they still gravitate to their house at night. Everyone's a winner.

Goat chops

Meanwhile, we got to try some goat meat from that kid in the previous post, Henry Óg (Henno). Owner Carolyn very generously passed us a dozen chops in gratitude for our haulage, grazing, help, midwifery and other goat-based services. The verdict? Chops are slightly smaller than a lamb chop would be and have way less fat on the rib part. Taste was like a slightly stronger lamb flavour (maybe mutton, but I've never tried that) and there was absolutely none of the 'goaty' smell or taste that we were slightly worried about (this was a 7 month old billy and was starting to honk in life). The 'eye' muscle (round lean bit) was possibly a bit tougher and chewy-er than our equivalent lamb would be but I just fast-fried it 3 minutes each side. It was pink in the middle (how we like lamb) . I have been told since that it really needs a bit of slow cooking - fry it by all means but then simmer very gently in something like onion gravy or a sauce for an hour - it then melts like butter!

We progress by stages on the kitchen extension. K-Dub arrived on Friday with the window and door panels. That was fun and more physical than I'd imagined. A double glazed door and frame make a lumpy piece of kit (2-man lift) and it took some steadying while K-Dub secured it with the requisite number of screws, fixings and 'anchor's. It all looks very well, all be it still covered in its white tape to protect the (wood grain) finish. It also gives us a nice idea of how big the new space will be. It has yet to receive its trims and facings, plus the fascia and rain-guttering. We also have to do the lead 'flashing' which binds the roof to the walls and stops rain water sneaking down the walls past the roof.

On time and on budget and in spec! Liz lands her main
autumn project, the village calendar. 

I have also alluded to a village project being landed by Liz about which I was sworn to secrecy. This has now hit the ground and all can be revealed. We have a village calendar. It is a thing of beauty and will make superb Christmas presents or something to have on the kitchen wall. It is based around the pictures taken by the 20  contributors to the Lisacul 365 (Year in the life) photographic project and is receiving wide acclaim and praise.

Village Tea Party

The first batch came from the printers in Balla-D on Thursday, so was ready to "launch" at the village Tea Party last night - our annual gathering of anyone who fancies cooking food to share, a bit of a fund-raiser for the village. Liz gets heavily involved in that, too, both organising it, publicizing it and then, on the day, preparing the hall which spends most of its life as the pre-school room, full of children's toys and furniture and beautifully decorated with all the children's hand- and foot-painting (this week it is all scary spiders and Frankensteins for Hallowe'en)

Another Lizzie project landed - my
lovely new jumper!

Finally, then, for this one, one more project landed. A lovely new country-knit jumper for my good self with a beautiful cable panel up the front. It fits perfectly and is going to be a firm favourite through the winter months.