fox and chickens

I noticed that one of the hens was not around - but sometimes they do disappear off somewhere else to make a nest (usually at their peril) - then a duck, and then it was obvious....there was a fox about, but what time of day was it coming?

Our chicken sheds have proved to be fox proof, but our outside enclosures are not - and as I can't keep the birds confined in a shed all day, I decided they would be safer free ranging. On this particular Sunday, we went out around 11.30 am and were back home before 3pm. We were away too long to save our very favourite little black silkie hen. She was called Raven the brave, and I reared her from a chick. When her other 'chick siblings' all died, I used to carry her round with me in my pocket, including car journeys, the lot - hence the brave, but bravery is no defence against a fox.

The guilt, the sadness and the anger felt in these situations, is hard to appreciate unless you have kept chickens. I have certainly made errors and bad decisions in the past, like forgetting to shut one of the shed doors, or arriving back home later than planned - and if I've lost a couple of birds, yes I feel bad, but that's fair game to the fox. This was not fair at all. How can I compete against a daytime fox? - undoubtedly a vixen, who would become bolder and more reckless as her cubs grow and demand ever more from her.

Henry saw the fox, early afternoon on the next two days, once with a chicken in its mouth, which it let go, amazingly, and ran off through the undergrowth.

We staked out the dog, to guard the high risk 'home' area - but this could only be a short term measure. We have had quite a few losses to foxes recently, and that is the trouble too. It is foxes in the plural, so shooting one, doesn't mean it is the culprit, and even if it were, there are plenty of others to take over.

Henry suggests moving the chickens and ducks.

damsel in distress

Everyone should have an 'oasis' to escape to now and then, however briefly. For some people, this may be a real place, like the bottom of the garden, a favourite walk, a view from the train window - or it may be a refuge deep within your mind's eye, like a meadow on a summer's day somwhere, or a remembered beach walk, stretching endlessly to nowhere in particular.

The place I like to go when I am upbeat and energised, and equally when I am downbeat and desolate, is the river. Our stretch of the river Dove, is perfectly beautiful , whatever the weather, or time of year. When I first visited the farm, (a long time ago!) after meeting Henry, I could not believe that he did not walk along the river every day - how could he not? I immediately made this my favourite bit of the farm, having always found it both a calming and a nurturing place. Now of course, I don't get the chance to walk along the river every day either, but when I don't, I feel the worse for it. I miss the rush of calm ( if that makes sense) that immediately reaches up to you from the ground, if you let it.

This summer, I have noticed great quantities of damselflies - 'banded demoiselles', I believe. The female is brownish, (typical of the natural world!) while the male is an exquisite blue/black creature, which looks strikingly delicate with wings outstretched. They are so in keeping with the 'riverside oasis' theme, as they have this simple, defined and primeval beauty about them.

It's worth the walk, just to see them - so try to make time if you are staying with us. And if you have not yet found your personal 'oasis' - I urge you to search out a place and make it especially yours. After you have 'been there' and are once again restored and re-focused, the people around you, could be glad you did!

tell someone they are awesome

Today started badly, and then worsened as the day went on, much the same as the weather really. I certainly felt a deepening 'ridge of depression' descending on me, which was totally independent of the storm clouds looming above.

It didn't help that I still had two cottages to get ready, for guests arriving 'any time after four' - and as anyone in the accommodation business knows - if you are not ready, it is pretty much guaranteed that your guests will arrive early (one of those unspoken sod's law things).

Added to this, our freezer decided to give up the ghost completely - with everything in melt-down, and needing to be thrown away. I didn't know, but Henry had valiantly saved the ice creams the night before, by putting them in one of the cottages freezers. I, unfortunately could not share his enthusiasm for this fact, thinking ahead to children's menus made up of only magnums and soleros in various flavours.

One hour to go before guests arrival, I discover the bathroom in the studio has a water leak and is flooded in a fairly major way. I decide to close the door, put a note on it, explain to holiday guests, and deal with it at my leisure (there's another interesting phrase.)

Part way through cooking tea (a simple affair involving eggs and bread, bread being the only thing, other than the ice-creams, that was salvaged from the great thaw) there is a hefty storm and the power goes off. This means that after I have pacified children that their survival chances without play station, computer or TV, are surprsingly high, I have to dash across the yard to the cottages, with reassurances to holiday guests that this kind of thing happens all the time, and power will no doubt be resumed (reasonably) shortly. Fortunately it is. Holiday people then dash across the yard to me, to tell me that I have forgotten to put towels in one of the cottages. Soon rectified, but it's just one more thing to apologise for !

The alpaca shearers, a team of guys over from Australia, phone to say they are coming tomorrow - even though the weather forecast is bad, and we have virtually no forward notice of their arrival. I inform them wearily that we have had the alpacas in for a couple of days, hoping shearers would turn up, so all fleeces are dry - no worries there. The voice at the end of the phone says to me that is 'awesome' - and my whole day changes immediately. Not 'that's fortunate' or 'that's good' but 'awesome'. I can't explain how amazingly positive it feels when something you have done, however simple, is described as 'awesome.' Try it out some time... speak out ... but be warned, this is a high impact word!!

baby cocoa update

One week on for baby Cocoa, our baby alpaca, otherwise known as a cria. He has had 7 days of trying to persuade his mum to love him, but with no success. We have given up on her too, after trying every combination of shutting her alone in a pen with baby, with companion and baby, milking her, trying to hold her still while the little one tries to suckle - you name it, we've tried it.

So it's bottle feeds, five times a day - just when I had reached the stage of leaving all the lambs to their own devices, and had put the powdered milk and bottles away! One consolation is that he drinks well from a bottle, and will take a 6 or 7oz bottle at each feed. Powdered lamb milk is tricky stuff (you can't buy powdered alpaca milk) - you have to feed enough to sustain the young animal, but not too much to upset its digestive system.

The 'aunty alpaca' pictured in last entry, and still in the background here, continues to let the little fella hang around with her - at least for now - it will be interesting to see what happens when she has her own baby later this month. As for people, well everyone thinks little Cocoa is adorable, and wants to help with feeding - so he has no shortage of surrogate aunties or nannies, but we know we have to be careful. Rearing male alpacas has to be a disciplined business, as they can become aggressive and unmanageable when older. This means contact only when feeding, and ensuring that he socialises with the rest of the herd at all other times.

Cocoa has to learn that he is an alpaca, first and foremost.