I Ran Out of Bullets

Nice surprise for Liz sneakily organised by the guests - the
Dining Room got decorated while she was outside, seeing
to some catering.

First a big Happy Birthday to the lovely Lizzie for Saturday. She bravely agrees to remove all chance of rest and swanning around getting spoiled, by inviting two guests over to stay the night (and then a 2nd night). These are a lovely couple and the best of guests, Dan and Danielle who jointly get referred to as "the children" even though they are grown up, working adults. This is because Danielle is daughter to Liz's closest cousin while she was a child, Cathy, so both of them should feel like a whole generation 'below' us (hence 'children') but, of course, we are all young at heart (cough) so they are just like 'normal' friends and we thoroughly enjoy their visits.

One of the ducks does the honours here. 

Dan lives a fairly high-power, management life, so he mainly loves the chance to relax in our brand of serene calm, but Danielle is mad keen to get involved in the small holdering, dealing with the stock and asking a gazillion questions. If anyone was sure to have her own place 'one day' then it is this Lady. Joking around, we have assembled a training course with tasks at various levels of difficulty and we sign her off as she progresses up through the "Stock Wrangler" skills.

Happy Livestock Wrangler. Here with a rather anxious
looking 13 day old Hubbard chick. (Pic by Dan)

Level 1: Basic early morning rounds, feed, water and release and basic evening round locking up.

Level 2: Shepherd 6 ducks to and from sleeping quarters to orchard without losing or panicking anyone. Mimicking duck's waddle as you follow them optional.

Level 3:  Load 12 Hubbard chicks from brooder to cardboard box and transfer to warm, sunny rabbit run without losing any.

That was going to be it for this visit but then she got bumped up to the next class when she was suddenly asked to do....

Picture by Dan

Level 4: Sort out which chick currently under successful broody hen B is actually in the wrong 'family' having snuck across from hen A when first brought off the nest for an explore. This only really possible because nest B chicks are either still a bit damp from the egg or less mobile than the 'A' chicks which hatched 2 days ago. The boss Stockman will help by lifting Hen B up a couple of inches so you can see under her skirts.

Danielle is no longer "The Children" but is now "My Level 4 Stock Assistant". All good fun.

Dustbin Lady shows off her first hatched.

While they were with us we were delighted by a huge amount of luck in the broody hens dept. In the last post I wrote of our 2 broody Buff Orps, Dustbin Lady and Crate Lady who had started on 6th and 8th Aug respectively, and as a result we just might have happy events while the guests were here (21 days later). Well in the event, both girls hit the target so a delighted (even tearful at one stage) Danielle was able to see 2 new chicks under 'Dusty' on Sunday and then a 3rd plus 2 under Crate Lady this morning (Monday). Dan was happy too, of course, but is a bit calmer and says he is "only the official photographer".

...and then a second.

Danielle also got involved in the chick-abduction mentioned under 'Level 4' above. One of Dustbin's three, when brought off the nest by Mum, wandered round the divider to Crate Lady in the 'next bed', walked right up to her chest, looked up at her huge 'same as my Mum' shape and presumably asked "Are you my Mummy?" Real Mum was going nuts behind the chick trying to contain the other 2 while calling the wanderer back, but Crate Lady said "I am now!" and promptly scooped the chick up under her skirts. It was a theft so fast and efficient that, had I not been there, I would have assumed all was well till I counted the 'dud' eggs left over, by which time the abducted chick would have bonded to not-Mum and would not have been returnable.

Dan takes some time out to study for his
soon-to-start first year at LSE and the kitten
may not have been much help. (Pic by Danielle)

What ever the outcome, we currently have 5 chicks from ten eggs which is not a bad score. The whole visit was the usual feast of excellent food, sensible drinking (yes, we do that now!) lovely chat and relaxation in lovely company. The guests' first plan was to stay one night here and go camping on the 2nd night somewhere in Wexford but they were so happy here and not entirely convinced they actually wanted to camp, that when we offered them a 2nd night, they jumped at the chance.

Blue gets 'Danielle'd. Pic by Dan

They took themselves off touristing on the Sunday instead, exploring Killala Bay, Enniscrone and the Ceide Fields. They had lovely warm weather for it. This morning we fed them the traditionally full-fry breakfast and off they went to find their ferry home. They have already booked their next visit. What do we give Danielle for her Level 5 test?

'Moloch' gets it in the beak

While the guests were away, I went, as usual on Sunday pm, archery-ing. I still love this and Sunday was a beautifully warm, sunny one, so we were out doors shooting at the foam rubber animals again. I was doing OK and managing to hit most targets plus, at one stage, for the first time ever I nailed the elusive 'Moloch', a fist sized owl who sits glaring at you from 25 yards away. If you need to know about the name Moloch, I refer you to 1 Kings 11:7. Impressed? Don't be. I only know this because our 'coach' Con told us. He is some flavour of dodgy Israeli false god. The owl, not the coach. I got him right in the beak (again, the owl, not....) and we were all so amazed we had to take a pic. Of course the lens-man and a friend and fellow archer, Paul, then went one better by nailing Moloch and the equally difficult 'Log Rat' with 2 SEQUENTIAL arrows. Show off! Also of course, neither of us could do a thing to refute the 'fluke' accusations - we never got near either target again.

Poppea not quite eclipsing my ample belly with
her own. 

Don't get too excited about looking for me in the Olympics, however. This was an out door shoot so all of us, expert and beginner alike, tend to lose a few arrows in the grass, or shoot high over the bank into a bramble patch, or ping the arrow, nose first, off an underground stone, or undershoot the target and hit the woodwork of the stand. This arrow-carnage can run you out of 'ammo' in a bit of a hurry and, since starting back in spring, I was getting through my original dozen and another 6 I had bought from a local guy. Fortunately some of the damage was only tips broken off at the 'join' and I have the tapering tool, glue and tips to repair these.

That day, though, I lost 2, snapped 2 more in half and someone smacked one of my successful arrows up the back end like Robin Hood, breaking the 'nock' into which the bow-string fits. It was half past 4 by then and I'd had enough when the instructor asked "have you run out of bullets?" Nothing for it but to pack up my stuff and head home to rejoin the house, where the guests were already back from Mayo/Sligo. Since then the archers who stayed to the bitter end actually found 2 of my lost arrows in the grass and I have been able to re-tip 5 more, so I am good to go back into action next week. Watch out Log-Rat.

Spray Your Hands Purple.

Beautiful! Delicious too. 

We were hoping for better weather for Good Friday. This is the day when houses and barns get white washed. We assume it was always the case that this was the hired hands' only time off. We managed it two years ago in bright sunshine under blue skies and the bright white walls looked splendid. The plan was to re-paint every year and thereby gradually build up a good layer of the wash. There was a hitch last year and it never happened. I don't recall why, but we are determined to get back on that horse this year.

The new book cases are in and filled.

It was a shame then to wake up to splattering rain and the gusty last knockings of that major wind system that we have been troubling us for a few days. It is no weather to be up ladders with splashy, thin paint and it would not dry anyway, so the white washing has been postponed till we get some more pleasant conditions. It was good enough, though to put our sheep-wranging skills to the test.

A pedicure for Feste.

The 12 week old lamb has been a bit lame off and on favouring his front right and a week ago we inspected his feet, could find nothing specific wrong but did notice that the outside edges of his hooves, which grow quite fast like finger-nails, were a bit long. I bought the foot trimming 'shears' and a can of the purple footrot spray. They don't HAVE footrot, but this seems to be the advice - you spray the foot liberally with spray after trimming as a preventative. Since you always spray your hand too, this is apparently how shepherds recognise each other in the pub or at weddings so that they can start up a sheep conversation if it all goes a bit quiet in the snug. "So..... been foot trimming then?"

Like a pair of straight secateurs and just as
sharp. We were amused to note that the spray
is made in a place in Hoo Marina in Kent. 

Of course, by the time we got back to the lamb he was no longer lame but that was no excuse. I need the practice at sheep wrangling. Any shepherd will tell you that this, like shearing, is best accomplished with the sheep on its back with no feet on the ground - it can try to kick and struggle but cannot sprint off. Getting a sheep onto its butt is another technique which you must quickly learn if you don't want to risk your own back and injury doing it the idiot's way of grabbing the animal round the chest and lifting it off the ground, plonking it down on its bum like a small child lifting his baby brother.

Feste's left hind gets the purple treatment.

In short you trap the sheep against a gate with your knees and grab a handful of jaw in your left hand and a hand full of rump-wool (or the 'dock' (tail cut short) with your right. You then bring your hands together, like trying to fold the sheep in half, starting with the head and neck. The sheep collapses naturally on his left hind, sitting down and you can easily swing his top half upright between your legs. You then control him mainly with your thighs and knees but you can get to all four feet and you have not even tried to lift the weight of his body. Or her, of course.

Mum (Lily) gets the same

While Feste was in there under our control, I also inspected Mum (Lily). I knew I could invert a 12 week old lamb (all be it a big bruiser of a fella) but could I manage a full grown 'yow'? The answer was yes, the technique works for all shapes and sizes. We think now that the original lameness must have been where the lamb stood on a sharp object or thorn, or possibly took a whack (a 'puck' as they say here) from one of the grown-ups in a food-trough squabble. Maybe he had a stone caught in the mud under his pad which was then dislodged in our inspection last week. Anyway, he seems to be all sorted now and our foot trim and foot rot spray cannot have done anything but good.

Some poultry like a low perch. Min likes to be up among the roof
rafters and lighting. 

Meanwhile, in the poultry department the young Buffs have moved, one by one, into the proper chicken house, abandoning the young-bird box, their child hood home. Even The Captain has moved in despite his very 2nd-in-Command status relative to 'Sir Buffers'. He is even allowed onto the lower perches for the night. Sir Buffton seems happy to keep driving him off when he tries to mount one of 'his' ladies without feeling the need to kill him or hurt him. We have the amusing sight every now and then of one of the ladies sprinting for the main flock and the protection of Buffers. The Captain gives chase until he gets close to the boss but then slows down and strolls around nonchalantly, whistling innocently. Me? Chasing your women, Sir?

We have had a lovely result in the garden-buying department. Needing more asparagus crowns, I had decided to try out a new supplier, "English's Fruit Nursery" down in Wexford. These guys mainly do fruit trees and bushes (so we slung in a lingonberry bush) but we also found a green hop and the asparagus. I don't think I have ever seen such meaty, healthy, big crowns. These were €1 each but spread out to a foot diameter when put flat, with an inch-round centre and 10-30 long, plump roots spidering out, at least bootlace thick, and some as thick as an earthworm. The 20 (which turned out to be 24) sat as a hefty weight in a feed sack. I should have taken a picture but they are now planted in two beds and we have great hopes for them.

New Laptop for Liz. 

We end the day with no barns painted but 2 sheep pedicured and a goodly batch of hot cross buns baked, some eaten while still warm from the oven with hot butter spread on them. Fish on Friday this week, so a nice supper of fish and prawns, en croute, I think, but don't quote me on that one. The wine is a chilled rosé.

Happy Easter.