The first beating

The beginning of the shooting season came round suddenly after what seemed like months of waiting. "9 O'Clock sharp" was the Keeper's instruction for meeting. Keen as mustard I was there - minus the bestest gundog in all the world on this first occasion - a good 5 minutes early but there were others already donning waterproofs and exchanging muffled morning pleasantries and banter in the mist.

It being the first day of this particular shoot's season, there was plenty of catching up to do. Just as well really then that we were not 'off' much before 10 am. Sixteen good men and true, 2 females and 8 assorted spaniels and labradors clambered up the steps into the beater-bus and off we went to the first drive. Bacon butties were offered round as our trusty tractor towed us up to the appointed place. It wasn't far but by the time we'd decanted from the wagon the mist was clearing and the sun steaming the dew off the grass.

Given our instructions we all lined up and - with sticks and flags 'beating' the air and undergrowth - walked our way up hill and down dyke, through maize and kale driving the partridge in the general direction of the 'guns'. Who duly fired a few volleys. When the keeper blew his horn, we all found our way back to the beater-bus, waited for the 'pickers' to collect the birds and for the guns to finish their refreshments (!) - more banter and tales exchanged - and then off to the next drive. And so the day progressed. It became warmer and warmer; jackets, jerseys, waterproofs all soon discarded in the wagon.... dogs gratefully lapping up copious quantities of water and slobbering over everything! Lunch was taken al fresco - all us of stretched out on the grass in the sunshine, resting weary legs and watching four buzzards circling ever higher above us, whilst yet more tales were told and 'catching up' done. One of the 'guns' sent over a crate of cool lager - gratefully received by some - and a 'wife' sent round some high energy cake which was even more gratefully received by others..... And soon we were off again. More walking, climbing, beating, bantering, perspiring.......

And then suddenly it was over. Back to the yard, count the birds, dole out the kitty to the winning guess (£1 per beater at the beginning of the day to guess the number of birds bagged), a few pennies to everyone for their labours and off home, some via pubs and chip shops, with cheery shouts of "same time next week".

Who would want to miss it?

"You'll bring the dog then? Next time?" said the keeper

You bet....

From baby bangs to Big Bangs!

It's getting closer and closer to 'entry into the Field' of the 'bestest-gundog-in-all-the-world'. Having done the little gun thing last lesson, Rory-the-trainer turned up this week with the 'rocket launcher'. So loud and powerful that ear-guards are needed when firing it! It's as loud as a shotgun but fires a dummy. So off we went to a large field of mixed linseed and mustard seed. Very picturesque and just tall enough to hide the whole of the dog. All that could be seen was the ripple! And , occasionally, his head and shoulders as he jumped up to see where either he or I was!

When the rocket launcher fired its first dummy Gunner dropped to his bum and snapped his head round to the sound. Sent off to 'fetch' he was there and back in a flash.

No problems. "A Natural" I thought to myself....

Big guns definitely more the thing than small guns.

Is this a dog bred for the job or what?

The rest of the lesson continued in the same vein. He did everything better and faster than before. Followed every instruction and found every 'blind' retrieve. A joy to behold!!!

Ok - it wasn't all bliss and perfection. The handler came in for a fair bit of criticism: "Not quick enough"; "Make a decision for goodness sake"; "I don't need all that commentary, just get on with it"; "When he asks for help, tell him quickly where to go...!"

etc etc.

It's probably just two or three weeks from Gunner's first experience of the "REAL THING"; he'll be fine. ...............If the handler gets her act together!

Meanwhile, I'm off for my first day's beating (without dog) at the end of the week - I've no doubt it will be very instructive. And Gunner's waiting with baited breath for all the news........

Time moves on

Anticipating the imminent arrival of Precious and Lily's first litters the new ark was ordered. And duly arrived last Friday. Very nice and clean it looked too in its sylvan setting. No doubt Lily and Precious will soon change that. Whoever looks to be first to farrow will probably get rite of residence.


And thereby hangs a question mark. According to our calculations, piglets were due at the end of this month. In other words, just a week or so away...... But neither look anywhere near delivering by then. In fact, at present it would be difficult to say they are definitely in pig at all. So we're back to where we were with Ginger's first litter. In the dark!

Which was how it was when our third hog left here to meet his maker on Sunday morning. We'd moved Butch to the Old Stalls on Friday - an idea to which he was most amenable. He seemed relieved to get away from Lily and Precious and have a bit of peace and quiet! Certainly he slept a great deal throughout both Friday and Saturday and enjoyed the extra attention and grooming. It was an early start for everyone on Sunday but it heralded a glorious golden sunrise and Butch was calm and relaxed.

An atmosphere which, thankfully, carried through into the afternoon when Rocco (AKA Madonna's Child - as is his moniker for doing what he generally considers poncy stuff - ie. dressage) was performing once more. We'd disgraced ourselves on the last occasion so were not much looking forward to another opportunity to do the same. For whatever reason though things were 360` different and we won the illusive Red Rosette! And, since he's such a handsome chap when he's performing well, we also won the 'Best Turned Out' rosette too!

Which all goes to prove that it can be done.... so there'll be no slacking from now on. And to think, the other day I was going to chuck it all in and just go hunting again. But don't tell him........

Fond news from not-so-afar!

Having occasion to drop in on Jemima's household a few days ago we were surprised to find the back door 'blocked' by an old radiator and a sheet of cardboard. "Most peculiar" we thought. Not (totally) surprisingy we learned that the Diva Duck was at the bottom of it. (Not literally).

It seems that she - the Diva Duck - has discovered a Poultry Palace of her very own; far more salubrious and much better appointed than the one she grew used to during her last stay at Rectory Reserve! And she has been happily going in at will.

This all came to light late one evening when she 'went missing' and no amount of calling or searching around the Morris garden led to her appearance. Neighbours were called in to help. The search continued - no bush or blade of grass was left unturned.....

An hour or more later the search was called off. Neighbours returned home. A very worried and fretful Mrs Morris returned indoors.

Where she noticed an unmistakeable trail...... which led to the dining room.

And there, under the table, was the delightful dozy duck, nose tucked under wing and clearly settled for the night.

Well, with a Poultry Palace like that, what duck wouldn't be!

And a partridge in a.. Oh, and a pair of bunnies...

Hot on the tail, so to speak, of bagging his first pheasant Gunner managed to catch a young partridge. The flock were hanging around Mangal and Ginger's pen on Saturday morning when we went out to do breakfast. I didn't see them. But eagle-eyed Young One did. The rest of the flock managed to fly off, but one clearly got trapped between a dog and a stock fence. When I - very slowly (still half asleep) - realised what was afoot, I whistled him to bring it to me; which he didn't quite cos he was still attempting to keep it in his mouth. Anyhow, when I got to him he gave it up quite happily.

"Look what I found Mum!"

We then took Young Dog indoors and then went back to release his treasure in the safety of the chicken pen (so he wouldn't catch the scent when he came back out!).

Allowed out again, Gunner spent the next hour eagerly looking for..... well, anything really. Life is suddenly so very exciting.

Then this morning, out for our 'constitutional' routine walk with the rest of the pack Gunner suddenly starts snuffling in the hedgerow. Calling him back, he eventually returns with..... - a tiny, tiny rabbit in his jaws, which he happily gives up to me.

"Look what I found today Mum!"

I put it in the bag and send him on his way again. In no time he is back snuffling in the hedgerow. Calling him back, he returns with -another - tiny, tiny rabbit in his jaws, which he happily gives up to me - again. And I put that in my bag too. Sent on his way again - well fired up by now ("Some laid back Gundog" I thought to myself), he (luckily) finds the hedgerow now bare of baby bunnies.

But what to do with two baby bunnies? They are tinier than the palm of my hand. Eyes only just open.

Temporarily,having left all the dogs indoors, I put the bunnies in a box of straw. And ring our Trainer. "Maybe he would like two baby bunnies for his Rabbit pen?"

"No thank you" he says "I'm overstocked already" and advises me to put them out of their misery - which of course I cannot - or return them to the wild.

So, I drive the bunnies in their box up to the hedgerow (so dogs can't follow scent) and release them where they were found - as near as dammit anyway, since I didn't exactly mark the spot.

Thought I'd just check the rest of the hedgerow in case there were others about but, No, not a one. Returning to the spot where I released them, there is now just one baby bunny. I rootle around but the other is nowhere to be found.... Perhaps it scuttled back down its burrow; perhaps mummy bunny was waiting in the undergrowth and carried it back to safety? Let's hope. I left quickly in case she was waiting to claim the second.

But I marked the spot so I can check tomorrow......

When, goodness knows what Young Gundog will find...........

Bang! Drop! Fetch!

I keep wondering how we convert the would-be Bestest Gundog in all the World from 'fetching' dummies to fetching the real thing. I think one of his little escapades this week proves that I needn't have wasted my time worrying about it!

But first, the theory.

Our lesson this week involved Gunner's introduction to THE GUN! Not a shotgun at this stage but a sort of starter pistol firing blanks.

"Just let him hunt over there" said our Trainer "and at some stage I'll fire the gun and, when he looks, I'll throw the dummy".

So off we went hunting some very interesting scents through the extremely long, rough grass. I heard the pistol fire; Gunner carried on hunting regardless. I heard the pistol fire again; Gunner sort of half lifted his head but then decided the ground was more interesting.... I heard the pistol fire again; Gunner looked up as if to see what it was that was disturbing his Important Business..... And then he saw the dummy drop. So I sent him off to fetch it. Zoomed there and back with it. No problem, despite the fact that it was one of Rory-the-trainer's dummies.

So he successfully passed two tests: (1) he doesn't worry about gunfire and (2) he's happy to collect a strange dummy.

"We're really flying now" I thought to myself.

Big Mistake.

"Right" said our Trainer "Back there in the direction of the car I dropped a dummy behind that distant clump of dock leaves. Send him to fetch it. I expect it back in double quick time!"

About 10 minutes later................ I won't even bore you with the detail but Rory said it was "well handled at the end".

It knocked Gunner's confidence a bit. Given the instruction to 'fetch' again, he just sat and looked at me as if to say - "What? Go through all that palaver again?!" Can't blame him really. But he realised I meant it and, having seen where I dropped it, at the 3rd time of asking, off he went and brought it back no problem.

Then we did some hedgework. Sit the dog. Throw the dummy over hedge. Send dog through to fetch.

First time, no problem. Well, we've been practising at home!

Second one was a different ball-game altogether. Another 10 minutes went by. Didn't help that the handler couldn't see the dog, and vice versa, because the hedge was too dense and a good 12 foot high! All I could do was call the dog in then send him back to try again. Several times. In the end we chucked a second dummy over. Which he fetched back easily!

"I reckon that other one's gone down a rabbit hole" I said to the Trainer! Nothing for it but to walk round through the gate down the track and find it! When we were in the right area, we set Gunner to searching and he found it easily! "Stupid humans" he probably thought.....

So we did a bit more hunting and tried the gun thing again.

Only at the third firing did Gunner immediately look up at the Bang, watch the dummy Drop and Fetch it instantly when told!

"OK, lesson learned for today" said our Trainer and we returned to the car. Me wondering if the lesson would be remembered two weeks hence!

Then yesterday, whilst I was mucking out, we heard a pheasant clucking. Gunner disappeared. And didn't return when I whistled. Always an ominous sign. Went in search and saw him with a pheasant clutched between his paws and the chicken-pen fence. On whistling him again, he brought the pheasant to me. Struggling somewhat cos it was still alive and struggling..."Good Boy". And gave it to me. "Good Boy" --- spitting feathers out of his mouth.... Pheasant was still alive. But died shortly thereafter - of a heart attack I suppose. Gunner was over the moon. Soooo excited that he'd bagged his first pheasant. Without all that Bang, Drop, Fetch stuff. What do we know. "This is more like it" he seemed to say!

All he wanted to do for the rest of the day was sit and watch his prize - until he almost fell asleep! Is that, or is that not, a GUNDOG in the making.....???

Say 'good bye' to the summer

Looking back, I note that on precisely this date last year the blog carried this same heading!

So, some things don't change!

Throughout the long wet days of June, July and August we have consoled ourselves with the knowledge that an Indian Summer was just round the corner! It hasn't arrived yet - and it's probably hopeless to pretend that it will now.

Although last November did surprise with wonderful sunny days so perhaps we are too hasty in consigning the never-arrived summer to the scrapheap!!

The last fledgeling swallows left the barn last week, (a few days earlier than last year) using the few sunny spells between showers to accumulate and refine their flying skills! We counted 6 broods again this year - we wonder if the same families return year after year? It's nice to think so; that they while away the winter in Africa planning their return to the Lincolnshire barn where they were hatched! For now though it's all quiet again, the guano removed and the stables 'clean' for the next 8 months! Ahhhh, shame......!

August was the wettest for 100 years; despite that and the lack of sun (we read in the paper that S.A.D. sufferers are advised to take Vit. D suplements!), the farmers have used every opportunity to gather in the harvest. This time last year it was about done. Not so this year. It's well behind and wheat still stands in some fields - black and sodden. Is it worth gathering or will it just be ploughed in???
Our own harvest is much depleted. Jam making has been confined to a few pounds of loganberry; the orchard being all but devoid of damsons, gages and plums. Apples are way down in quantity and a while off picking yet. Even the hedgerows don't look to be carrying their usual abundance of elder and currant. A meagre harvest for the pantry then. And what to decorate the church window with this Harvest Festival? Sodden turfs may not be appropriate.....
Even the autumn hunting 'season' reckons to be starting two or three weeks later than usual....
"So much for global warming" we all mutter.. except the ducks who are thriving .....

Ah well; it'll soon be time to batten down the hatches, light the fires and dream of sun-soaked desert isles......

Visitors

It's been a week of comings and goings!

Visitors to RectoryReserve from the European branch of the family staying, so we thought to take them to visit our outlying family. First to Woodlands Farm to say "Hello" to Gavin and Stacey (their visitors chose the names!?) who roused themselves from their slumbers and came trotting over to see us. We remarked how very well they looked, despite (or maybe because of) their little escapade a few weeks back.

Interestingly, we noticed that their coats seemed to have developed a slightly chestnut tinge. "Odd" we thought, since Gavin and Stacey come from 100% Blonde stock.

Too much sunshine? This year? Couldn't be. Perhaps something in the soil - or maybe the organic vegetables they find in their dish?

Anyway, we stayed a while and chewed over the fat with them. Handsome pair. Just as well as they are to be the foundation of the Woodlands Herd of curly coats. Can't be too much longer before the patter of tiny trotters is heard in that neck of the woods.

Another day; another adventure. This time up to the north of the county to visit our chaps up at Pink Pig Adventure.

They too were slumbering in their ark when we arrived but, seeming to recognise familiar voices, stirred themselves and came ambling over to the fence to check the visitors out.

They told tales of the spitting Alpacas in a nearby field, the very smelly goats and the noisy geese across the way - not to mention the Gloucester Old Spot X Berkshire piglets just up the track. Sometimes, they said, their sleep was disturbed by the sounds of children playing (loudly) on the nearby climbing frames. On the whole, though, they said there was always plenty of entertainment - never a dull moment.

We'd been told they were named Rhubarb and Custard when first they arrived but a competition was held to select more appropriate names for them. "Now we're known as Curly and Worley" they said, rather lugubriously.......

We couldn't help noticing that they too had developed rather distinctive colouring. The hair round the edges of their ears was decidedly dark - almost black. Similarly on the top of their necks the hair was black tipped. Quite different from Precious and Butch who have remained here at the RectoryReserve. It could be that Mangal's colouring is coming through in the hogs (although, in that case, Butch too should be going darker) or maybe it is something to do with their diet? Or something coming through from the minerals in the ground?

Very interesting.

Anyway, we bade our fond farewells and left them chewing the undergrowth.

And then the following day at RectoryReserve we had unexpected and unknown visitors whilst we were entertaining family and friends at home.

"What was that red umbrella that just went past the window?" said the boss

"I'll go see" said I

"Would this be the home of the curly coat pigs?" said the stranger in the doorway.

"It certainly would" said I.

"Terribly rude of us to just drop in unannounced but I don't suppose we could possibly see them could we?"

"Well, of course, let me just grab a coat and some wellies" said I.

And off we all - Red Brolly man and wife, brother and sister in law - traipsed to visit the piggies. Turns out the chap with the Red Umbrella had come all the way from L.A., USA .(To visit the pigs!!!!?)

Well... actually, he'd heard about them whilst visiting family not too far from RectoryReserve who'd taken them to visit Elsham Hall, where they'd picked up a leaflet about curly coat pigs and had come in search of same. "Couldn't possibly come all the way to UK and not see these unusual creatures" said Red Umbrella man.

Well, quite right too. His family were 'into' pigs for many a year - been butchers too. He'd "escaped" to The States 45 years ago!

Red Umbrella man's wife took lots of photos.

They all departed smiling. Content that they had seen "the strange woolly pigs...."

The brother and wife will be back - they said - for the Open Day and sausages at the end of this month or the next piglet Open Day ....or both......

The chicken now known as Wanda

Chickens are such silly birds!

They do nothing for years and then suddenly surprise by doing something totally unexpected!

Like this black hen. She's a homebred Leghorn Cross; didn't get on with many of the hens in the Poultry Palace so was 'given' to Merlin as one of his flock. Since when she's been remarkably unremarkable.

Then all of a sudden a couple of weeks ago she's off. Through the fence and down the Church field. Right to the bottom. And back again. Every morning when we're about the yard feeding and opening up etc she wanders off. Returns to Merlin by the time the serious work of the day begins - that's when the dogs are running around so I guess she's not so daft that she hasn't worked out that that is not a good time to be wandering around. So back she goes to her pen, where invariably she is greeted with some consternation - or relief - by Merlin and shooed off to join the rest of his flock. After a few weeks of this behaviour she has earned the distinction of her own name - Wanda, of course.

Not infrequently she can be found strutting around at other times of the day when, presumably, she thinks the coast is clear. Unfortunately, that is not always the case and she did inadvertantly find herself being closely - very closely - guarded by Gunner one day last week. During which event she got a little panicky - not that he was doing anything except watching her very, very closely (he was under "Leave!" orders at the time) - and tried to scrabble under some wire in the hedgerow, and consequently lost a few feathers. Hence the bare patch on the front of her neck!

Scratchy and Delila keep a close eye on her too - not that they'd do anything (except maybe gloat) if she were to get into serious difficulty.

Let's just hope she doesn't get too "cocky" in her wanderings otherwise young Charlie or Mrs Fox may just take advantage of Madam Wanda.........