...and a Happy New Year from the Lovely Girls. We gather from friends that hens are meant to slow down their production a bit through the dark depths of winter but it's been so mild and sunny and our hens are ignoring that advice. We are on three a day at present from three 'working' hens. Broody Betty is, we are sure, coming back into lay. She has bright yellow legs and bright red comb and wattles and spends a lot more time with the Lovely Girls rather than separate looking after the young ones. The young ones are now very much part of the normal comings and goings, so we see all 7 birds strolling about together.
This morning I needed hay to bed down the chooks once I'd cleaned them out, and for a hay-mulch on the asparagus bed, so a chance to go for a blat in the 2CV. I love this and the roads round here are just perfect for 2CV. The words "bowling along" seem especially apt for the slightly rolling surfaces, especially in the boggy bits of the County, where a straight road tends to undulate over, I guess, harder and softer bits of the peat substrate. So I took Deefer for a trundle down to our hay/straw merchant and threw a bale of hay into the back seat, giving the car a suitably farm-vehicle sprinkling of hay bits. A bale is €4.25 and lasts us for ever, much cheaper than buying the silly little pillow-packs in pet shops for mad money.
Next job was to go with John Deere Bob down to our little stand of coppiced ash to bring back some of what I'd cut down before Christmas. It's been a bit wet to get the tractor down there but has now dried out through Christmas and Bob reckoned he'd get through if he picked a careful route, sticking to the better drained sloping ground and nipping through a hedge-gap rather than using the much-puddled-up gateways. He has a reasonable sized "box" mounted on the 3-point-link of the tractor.
This is, by the way, Bob's only vehicle, so he uses it for shopping, trips to Mass, going visiting and even trips to his favourite restaurant for lunch once a week. He was happy to lend it to me for this job, but I declined, sure I'd get it bogged down, so I persuaded him to do the driving. I followed on on foot across the fields with Deefer in tow, chasing about and exploring the hedges and cattle foot-prints. We gathered up about 3/4 of what I'd cut and brought it home, coming down in through the cattle race and able to turn round in the yard, so we could back the tractor right in to the back door, almost, making it dead easy to off-stack the logs onto our log store.
This is ash so, when dry, burns with a fierce hot flame, very good in the range. It grows like weeds in all the hedges round here and, even better, you can coppice it. It grows back from the base when you cut the trunks down. Sustainability!
Also on the agenda today was to bottle up the home made wine. It had its finings treatments yesterday and had now done the 24 hours of settling to fall clear. First job was to rack it off (syphon it off the sediment) into the 5 gallon bucket, a job best done all in one smooth 'pour' with no interruptions and no movement of the 'source' bucket. If you stop/start there is a risk of the syphon tube letting wine fall back and stir up the 'lees', where upon you'd have to leave it another 24 hours to settle.
We have been keeping a stock of the Rioja bottles we get from Lidl which come with one of those modern tough, stiff, spongy plastic "corks" which we figured we could re-use. We had also kept a few screw-top bottles and had a back up supply of washed out 2 litre milk containers to house any surplus. This all proved to work perfectly well except that at the last minute I decided I had better try to sterilize the corks and tops with boiling water. I tried one just in case they'd go all soft but it seemed to survive, so I went for it.
Unfortunately while I then went about racking the wine off, these corks took up a small amount of the water and swelled. They were an absolute PIG to get back into the tops of the bottles. I used an old trick I knew, to lay a bit of narrow wire down the inside of the bottle to just pinch the cork away from the glass enough to let air out as you draw out the wire, but this wasn't an air-pressure problem, it was just that the corks were now too big. If you are doing this a lot it's worth buying a cork compressor but we've not got that organised yet. I ended up squidging them in as best I could, and then whacking them gently with my rubber mallet. It almost worked. The corks are 3/4 in with a 'muffin top' like a champagne top. We'll have to check they don't start popping out! We will be doing this again and will gear up with corks, the compressor and other stuff.
The verdict? The wine is nice looking, a lovely red colour and clear as a bell. The taste is maybe a bit 'thin' but is pleasant enough and not offensive in any way, not acid, not tannin-ish, not young/sweet. We could believe it was a merlot and we can believe the oak-aged thing but we'd want to blind-taste it to convince ourselves. The thinness has us thinking it is going to be easy to drink and we hope not inclined to give us sore heads or hang overs. A success. We are very pleased. Thank you very much Mr and Mrs Silverwood for this very thoughtful Christmas Present.
Showing posts with label hay bale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hay bale. Show all posts
Wednesday, 2 January 2013
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
Meeting the Boss
Now that the baby chicks have reached a fine, fully feathered, 6 weeks old we had promised them and their Mum that we would release them from the Maternity Unit on the first reasonable day for weather. They could have an explore, meet the other hens and the rooster and, if they wanted to, move back in with them in the 'grown ups' roost.
This happened at around midday - we'd had to nip into town for a hay bale (rabbit bedding - hay may be a mad money from a pet-shop but a whole bale is only €4 from the merchant), for coal and to collect our (shhhhh) hearts, kidneys and livers from the butcher. The weather was mild and only spitting rain occasionally and the hutches are, as you know, in the dry calf house anyway, so we opened the hutch door to see what would happen. The gang are well used to this anyway as I open it several times a day to feed them, but I never stand back and let them lean out properly.
One chick quickly and professionally hopped down to the floor but then thought better of it and could not get back up, so we quickly improvised a ramp from peat turfs to allow easy access.
The babies and Mum had only been down and exploring a few minutes when the rooster and hens wandered into the yard and, driven by their own curiosity, came and had a look. There we were, mixing. It all seemed to go well. We watched from the sidelines but did not interfere. Broody Betty was accepted back straight way, admittedly with a couple of pops from the alpha-hen just to make sure she wasn't getting any ideas. The hens also dopped the babies on the heads a few times in a half hearted way to make a point but the babies were pretty much allowed to run in between and among the hens. They were, of course, excited to be allowed out into the yard and to see real puddles, real earth and real herbage for the first time and their excited cheeping frequently brought a hen running just to make sure they weren't missing out on the best food.
William was keen to "welcome" Broody Betty back (now there's a euphemism!) under his wing but she was, for now, having none of it. He took very little interest in the new babies and they kept a respectful distance. He's a big fella now and they are only 8 inches tall when they stretch right up.
At one point Rolo the cat wandered up. Cats were our other slight worry - these chicks are not much bigger than the rats that at least one cat can dispatch so we wanted to make sure they were an out-of-bounds, off-the-menu shape for the cats. The cat came and tried to go nose to nose to a chick. The chick was bewildered and totally unafraid (a worry!) but Betty came and pecked him on the nose and he retreated in high dudgeon as only cats can.
So, we all mooched around for a while staying within a few yards of the calf house door until the hens seemed to get bored and wandered off back to the front lawn followed by William who seemed in two minds which 'flock' to marshall. The chicks and BB then strolled back into the calf house and climbed the turf ramp back into the hutch. "Our work here is done", they seemed to say. I shut the hutch door and left them to it. We gave them another run out in the afternoon, which went similarly. I guess we just keep doing this till they eventually re-join the main flock for good.
A successful excercise.
By the way, it's been pointed out to me that occasional spam content gets into my 'comments' section. I have purged this but if any of you are commenting under the heading 'anonymous' you may no longer get through.
One chick quickly and professionally hopped down to the floor but then thought better of it and could not get back up, so we quickly improvised a ramp from peat turfs to allow easy access.
The babies and Mum had only been down and exploring a few minutes when the rooster and hens wandered into the yard and, driven by their own curiosity, came and had a look. There we were, mixing. It all seemed to go well. We watched from the sidelines but did not interfere. Broody Betty was accepted back straight way, admittedly with a couple of pops from the alpha-hen just to make sure she wasn't getting any ideas. The hens also dopped the babies on the heads a few times in a half hearted way to make a point but the babies were pretty much allowed to run in between and among the hens. They were, of course, excited to be allowed out into the yard and to see real puddles, real earth and real herbage for the first time and their excited cheeping frequently brought a hen running just to make sure they weren't missing out on the best food.
William was keen to "welcome" Broody Betty back (now there's a euphemism!) under his wing but she was, for now, having none of it. He took very little interest in the new babies and they kept a respectful distance. He's a big fella now and they are only 8 inches tall when they stretch right up.
At one point Rolo the cat wandered up. Cats were our other slight worry - these chicks are not much bigger than the rats that at least one cat can dispatch so we wanted to make sure they were an out-of-bounds, off-the-menu shape for the cats. The cat came and tried to go nose to nose to a chick. The chick was bewildered and totally unafraid (a worry!) but Betty came and pecked him on the nose and he retreated in high dudgeon as only cats can.
So, we all mooched around for a while staying within a few yards of the calf house door until the hens seemed to get bored and wandered off back to the front lawn followed by William who seemed in two minds which 'flock' to marshall. The chicks and BB then strolled back into the calf house and climbed the turf ramp back into the hutch. "Our work here is done", they seemed to say. I shut the hutch door and left them to it. We gave them another run out in the afternoon, which went similarly. I guess we just keep doing this till they eventually re-join the main flock for good.
A successful excercise.
By the way, it's been pointed out to me that occasional spam content gets into my 'comments' section. I have purged this but if any of you are commenting under the heading 'anonymous' you may no longer get through.
Labels:
Broody Betty,
butcher,
fully feathered,
hay bale,
Maternity Unit,
Rolo the Cat,
turf ramp
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