A Deal With the 5-Acre Fox?

Call it mad folly, but we have come to a verbal agreement with our 5-Acre Fox. You might want some explanation around that statement, so here goes.

Campaign Map

I have posted earlier that we have killed three foxes including, we are sure, our foolishly brave 'Daylight Raider' of 12th January and his 'wife' and maybe a daughter grown-cub from this family who we think live(d) in the whin scrub down the bank and across the stream from us (see map, top right). The red box on this map is 'our bit' and North is upwards. Unfortunately on the late evening of the day of the third shooting I got that sinking feeling when I saw, way off in the 5 Acre field to our west, the yellow/green reflections of the eyes of yet another fox.

We have come to know that these foxes are creatures of habit and, on the plus side, this fox seemed to stick closely to his (or her, we have no way of knowing but I'll call him 'him' for these purposes) own set of rules. He has only ever been a bit of a 'scaredy cat'. leaving some scent in our woods (see blue shading on map) at around supper time, well after dark and after bird lock-up but then scarpering quickly into the 5-Acre field at the first sign of me or dogs. He runs a good 50 yards diagonally across the field (blue arrows) before pausing to look back over his shoulder and then vanishes, presumably through the very gappy hawthorn hedge and tumbledown barbed wire fence. We have never seen him in daylight or closer or for longer than that. I just see the eyes, at a distance, when I get round to our (wired up) gate (orange on map).

Coppicing more ash in the 'Secret Garden' (now pig paddock)

So why don't we hunt him down and kill him? Well, If I'm honest, I have 'done' 3 and I have now no more stomach for this work. I hate that they kill chickens but I hate having to get them shot, seeing that beautiful and so dog-like shape change from an animated, lovely living thing, in an instant, (Bang!) into a limp shape, steam rising from its mouth as it cools down. I know I needed to kill my Daylight Raider, who would have given us no peace, but the '5 Acre Fox', I am sure had no part of this. The whin-scrub family always came and went up and down the bank-fields; this guy from away across the fields to our West. I think this guy will do me no harm as long as he stays a nocturnal 'scaredy cat'. So I decided to cut him some slack and do a deal with him.

Yes, I know. I was out with the dogs on the Friday evening at 10 pm and saw him, as usual, way off so I heard myself calling to him and then talking to him as he stayed there, blinking occasionally, as if he was listening to me and trying to work out what was going on. Was I going to let the dogs go after him or pepper his butt with shot? "OK", I said, "you got away with it this time. If you can stay out of our cross-wires till Sunday Night, we are calling off the campaign. If you stay scared and nocturnal and don't catch any of my chickens then you can live". He heard. He blinked a couple of times more, then vanished, presumably through the gappy hawthorn hedge and off home, where ever that may be.

Pulmonaria (lungwort) coming into flower.

I also realise that this may have been folly, that he/she will grow up and get hungry and possibly as brave and reckless as our Daylight Raider, but if that happens, then we can always call the guns back in and swing back into action. I have not seen him, nor have the dogs picked up any scent for the last few nights, since the thaw. Perhaps we should have hunted him down, but I do not want this 'mission' to 'creep' from killing a nuisance fox, to trying to eradicate foxes from the townland. I suspect we'd not win that one anyway. I have my doubts about whether we'd even 'get' this one, that's a big field and has none of the restricted 'creep-in-under-the-fence' access of the Bank Field(s) and our sheep fencing.

The pig ark is ready, but when will we
get the pigs?

As to 'eyes', I got quite good at eyes over the fortnight. The fox with his yellow-green, slitty, close together, blinking eyes is easy to distinguish from the local competition. Blue the cat has big round eyes which reflect back more a blue-green in the LED head-torch beam, plus he tends to sit there, gazing at you across the lawn, unblinking (as opposed to running away) and then comes bouncing across towards you, which the foxes don't tend to do (!). The sheeps' eyes are much further apart, being on the sides of the animals head and are a dull blue-green plus, easy to spot, there are 3 pairs of them, 2 pairs on tall animals and a little, smaller pair, lower to the ground. 'Feste' the lamb of course. As another clue, as soon as they see us they set up calling, 'baaa-ing' for a late supper or in protest at no longer being allowed to sleep indoors.

Amusingly different widths, left to right, Lily (no longer pregnant)
Feste and the broad-in-the-beam, in-lamb bulk of Polly.

So what else is new? We have been enjoying more signs of spring with the Pulmonaria in the woods coming into flower but we are, again, a few weeks behind Mentor Anne, who has snowdrops and primroses out already. We have more snow and cold forecast for tomorrow, though. I have been out coppicing some more ash and logging it up, all good work for the chainsaw. I have also been chasing up some possible pig suppliers ready for our 2015 maybe-Berkshires. We are going to have to start some eggy baking - we are getting 2 goose eggs every other day now. It's never dull, this small-holdering.

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)

More Signs of Spring

Now that the local Daffodil Show is well and truly over, the daffs all decide it's now OK to flower. These rather nice collection of Tete-a-Tete are in one of the big pots which were originally a birthday present from Mum to Dad. They are too big for Mum to lift but she used her womenly wiles and the 2CV (and a handy bloke with strong arms) to bring them home from the garden centre when Dad was out of the way.

Since then they have contained a variety of ill-fated plants, a Japanese maple which died, and a philadelphus which fared little better. Now they are full of daffs while they decide what to do with them. The other pics (if we can get them to show - this website seems tyo be having a hissy-fit and will not show them, so we have no idea whther they uploaded successfully or not.

Dad has survived another weekend on call and we've had plenty of good walks. Mr H, says Dad, is definitely starting to slow down now, the old fella, and an hour and a half of fairly gentle is enough for him. I am, of course, fit as a flea at 3 years old, so there is talk of maybe replacing Meggie with a fit, young third dog to give me a run for my money and let Haggis have a gentle retirement, like they did for Meggie. Maybe not a pup. Maybe not even (gasp) a Westie.

We'll see. Now we want to try publishing this and see what the website makes of it.

Deefski