Pardon?

Our butcher's wife rang on Friday afternoon in a bit of a state.

"Have you seen the Boston Standard?" she exclaimed.

"Er.. No" said the Big Boss, slightly perplexed (hardly surprising as we're not in the right catchment area for that particular Weekly).

"Well, there's a story in it about the First Curly Coated pigs to be born in the County in 40 years" continued the good lady.

"That's a bit out of date" said the man "They were born nearly 18 months ago; I've heard that editors keep stories 'on the spike' in case they run out of news, but that's ridiculous".

"No" she said, getting agitated "You don't understand, these are new piglets born near Boston earlier in the week!"

We thought it must be a bit of a hoax but since we had to take Lancer to the osteopathic vet that afternoon and he's in that neck of the woods, we called in at the supermarket petrol station and purchased a copy of said local newspaper. And sure enough - there on the second page was the above story! All about a chap who has re-introduced Curly Coated Pigs back to Lincolnshire and intends to breed them and sell them and their products..............

So the Big Boss tried to contact this gentleman but so far to no avail and it seems not only the headline was wrong but probably the name and address referred to as well. Most peculiar.

Well, with the Spring Equinox and the new moon and the clocks going forward and 'old' news seemingly rehashed..... perhaps we're all just caught in a time warp....... but, then, that's often said about this part of the world... so who knows????

Comings and goings

Notwithstanding the fact that it was Mother's Day and blowing a gale last Sunday, over 30 people attended our first Open Day of 2009. Unfortunately our newest mother took the decision not to let her little ones out:

"Never know what might happen with all those strangers about" she probably thought to herself. Shame!

The following day it was a different story altogether and she bustled them over to talk to me at the gate - although they were quick to take shelter under her capacious ears.... can't blame them cos they really are the most amazingly curly large ears.

Since they were out and about for quite a while, I had the opportunity to play with the little ones and study them a little more closely. Quite a revelation ---- Precious is really quite clever. Not only did she give birth to one of each colour, but also to one of each sex. (I know, I got it wrong last week!). She probably thought she'd done enough and must have been quite satisfied with her output!

We've named them Bonnie & Clyde - the blonde is Bonnie, naturally!

Meanwhile, it was off to the Butterfly Park with two little chefs on Tuesday. There was no favouritism in the decision about "who to go" and "who to stay".... just the first two to go into the trailer when we asked them. Ainsley (the coloured one!) has always been the most preococious of the bunch so no surprise that he was first on without hesitation, closely followed by Delia and it could have been 3 -- Jamie (or was it Hugh?) followed but then had a change of heart and ran back to the paddock....... chicken....

Arriving at the Butterfly Park they were equally happy to disembark and delighted their new custodians by trotting speedily around the perimeter of their new home, inspecting the lodgings and generally giving the place their seal of approval. Thanks to their predecessors doing such a good job of demolishing the grazing last year, their pen has only a light covering of grass this time round. That doesn't really bother pigs though cos they are more interested in finding out what is under the grass....... Having disclosed their liking for cow parsley - of which there is no shortage at the Park - - I don't imagine they will lack for green stuff! In fact the charming Michael (keeper of the Park) suggested that if we had halter trained Ainsley and Delia he would be quite happy to take them on foraging expeditions. Unfortunately we had to admit that we had been a little lax in that department of their education --- "not that there is any reason why they shouldn't be so trained during their summer sojourn!" we were happy to add.....

We left Ainsley and Delia merrily exploring their new surroundings.. accompanied by some very strange background noises. "That's the Llamas" explained Michael, continuing "They'd never made any noise before the pigs came last year, and then they started this strange laughing." Curious. Even more curious is that since the curly coats left the park for the winter the Llamas have once again been silent -- until they saw Ainsley and Delia on Tuesday and started laughing again....... Now, what to make of that????

Two's Company

Well - there we are.... what more can we say? The sun's come out and warmed things up a bit so Precious has finally relented and let the little ones out to play.

Just the two of them - one 'red' and one 'white' - seriously precious little darlings! Enough goodness to go round a litter much larger all compressed into two little bodies!

Precious is still very protective of them and cautious about letting us in to 'play' with her babes but a few things we have observed: the white one is the boss and always out in front:

the white one has already lost all his stripes:

both have very upright ears (but perhaps they'll grow to be as woolly as Precious's in time:

and both are boys...

Names will be announced shortly!

Meanwhile, the Little Chefs sprung a bit of a surprise on Sunday.

We were out at a local dressage competition with the Paragon of Virtue (who was not quite PoV enough to win....). When the Big Boss returned home late in the afternoon to feed the Porcine population he was surprised to find the 7 Chefs all - apparently - fast asleep in their ark ("On such a lovely sunny afternoon!" as he later remarked...). That is to say, there was no sign of them in their paddock.

Well, there wouldn't be, would there?

They'd gone to pay a visit to Mum and Dad next door....... Nobody's admitting 'Who dunnit?' but a piglet sized hole had suddenly opened up in the fence and what were the little ones to do but visit the Grown-ups?

All very nice and cosy - and quiet - they were! Must have been having a very serious chat - probably, with it being Spring, about the birds 'n bees....

It wasn't exactly the easiest little job he's had to do in the past few weeks, but the Big Boss managed to get everyone back in their own home in - almost - next to no time and when Rocco and I arrived home all was sorted and everyone could collapse in peace for the rest of the evening..........

Precious Offspring

It was birthdays all round last weekend:

First the Bestest Gundog, then his Favourite Person the following day and then - at long last - Precious's first litter on Sunday afternoon.

She wasn't behaving any differently in the morning than she had been all week: had breakfast and a bit of a scratch and a mooch about.... but by Tea-Time she was a proud ---- and very protective --- Mum. If it were not for all the squeaks and grunts we wouldn't have believed there was anything but an extended Siesta going on..... and even now, 4 days later, she has not let us get any closer to the ark than about 3 yards - until yesterday afternoon all we were allowed to see was her very protective back! So we have no idea how many offspring there are.

When she came out for a bit of a scratch and chunter in the sun yesterday tea time we managed to catch a brief glimpse of a little pile of bodies in the straw! We shall just have to be patient ... there are definitely 2 little ones but there may be as many as 4 or 5... only Precious knows..... So unlike Ginger who cannot wait to offer her babes up to the inquisitive visitors and cameras.......

The Birthday Boy

How time flies!

The Bestest Gundog in all the World turned 2 years old on Friday. What a lot we've learned together since his first birthday. To think that this time last year we were worrying about teaching him not to chase rabbits and now, with his first shooting season behind him, he's proved himself an excellent gundog with not the slightest intention of chasing fur under any circumstances! (Well, OK, occasionally just for 5 yards or so out of bravado - or to show the rabbit that he could if he wanted to!). Instead of spending the next few months teaching him everything from scratch (like last year), we can concentrate on stretching him and developing his ability and confidence for his second season without losing the much-admired control......

The plan includes taking part in some Gundog Working Test competitions. Which may prove more difficult than just the competition itself..... first we have to find a club which holds Spaniel tests. This excludes our local club who only hold Labrador Retriever tests (although I have been invited to 'help' at their Field Trials - which are the Real & Serious Tests which take place during the shooting season - in order to learn first hand what's involved). One of the reasons our part of the county is designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty is because we have hills and woodland and hedgerows - ie. quite a lot of rough ground and thick cover. The rest of the county is mostly flat and devoid of any meaningful 'cover' : though highly regarded for growing vegetables, corn and flowers it is better suited to Labrador Retrievers than bramble bashing Spaniels. Hence, there are not enough bbS's to warrant holding Spaniel Tests. We therefore need to join a club further afield. Initial conversations indicate that we could be excluded from one or more of these since we do not know anyone in the clubs to 'propose' or 'second' our joining! Not an insurmountable problem if my dog "is as steady" as I say he is! Oops; probably should not have sung his praises! Membership is, therefore, an ongoing project. All part of the larger Taking Part in Field Trials project....

Which Gunner is blissfully unaware of!

And as he is now quite grown up there were no toys for this Birthday - instead a long walk/hunt across some strange territory full of wonderful smells with the chance to flush out a few birds and rabbits..... which he enjoyed far more. Not as good as the real thing, but the nearest we can get out of season...... and all part of working towards those Tests......

Taking Free Range too literally

In my estimation, chickens are without doubt the dumbest of God's creatures. Nonetheless, we love them and go to extraordinary lengths to make them comfortable. We think they have feelings. Although we know they are dumb, we can't believe there isn't just the teansiest bit of sense in their little heads. But time and again we are proved wrong.

Take, for instance, the interpretation of Free Range adopted by some of our flock. The new Hen House in the orchard is surrounded by the best, freshest and most varied pecking on the entire estate. To protect the delightful inhabitants from predators - and the occasionally passing Spaniel - we have enclosed a considerable portion of the orchard around the House with a (used-to-be) electric poultry fence. You'd think the little dears would be content with all that space inside the fencing. Think again. This is Conchita under the beech hedge; if you look closely you can just make out the fence behind her. From this angle, it should be in front of her. At least she's on home territory: a number of her colleagues decided to go and investigate the farmer's field on the other side of the other hedge..... One of them, Conchita's fluffy grey daughter from last summer who had recently been brought across to this, the best place for chickens on the whole estate, was retrieved by the Bestest Gundog in All the World - who, unfortunately, cannot (yet) distinguish between pheasant runners which he must at all costs catch and chicken runners which he must under no circumstance catch. (Clearly this is a lesson to which we could quite usefully turn our attentions during the summer months!). Net result: said fluffy grey hen is now recuperating in the cage in the haybarn which Conchita herself occupied when she had the mysterious wound under her wing. Luckily Fluffy Grey was only slightly scratched and shaken and is mending nicely.

Which is more than can be said for Jumping Black Flash. She was a black Leghorn. On a stupidity scale of 1 to 10, where 'normal' chickens are 10 and Bantams are minus 10, Leghorns are minus 20. JBF proved this in spades. She and her sister were moved from the Poultry Palace to Mr White's flock in the corner of the Church field a few days ago. At this point in time there is more grass inside their area than in the whole of the 5 acre Church Field. So what do they do? After familiarising themselves with Mr White and his domain for the first 24 hrs, they spent the next 48 hopping over the fence and exploring the wider world, including chatting to their old mates in the Poultry Palace pen about their new home. Several times I scooped them up and put them back within the safety of the fencing. More times they hopped out again, or just jumped up onto the fencing rails. Eventually one of them got the message and decided it was probably simpler to stay on the right side of the fence. But the JBF decided she liked snowdrops better, despite Mr White and her sister trying their hardest to persuade her otherwise.

Unfortunately, her pig-headedness got her into trouble. The Big Boss was watching Rugby at feeding time yesterday so I had the dubious pleasure of feeding all the piggies. Whilst engaged in this onerous task I suddenly became aware that my shadow (aka The Bestest Gundog etc etc) had 'disappeared'... When he didn't quickly return to call, I suspected something was wrong and went in search..... only to find him desperately trying to bring me Jumping Black Flash, who, stooopid to the end, was squawking and flapping and trying to beat her way free. He, naturally, was equally determined not to drop her whilst he dutifully brought her over to me..... by the time he achieved this she was quite exhausted and gasping and, I am sorry to say, died of shock just a little while later. Poor silly thing.

And then just a little while later, there was her stupid sister on the wrong side of the fence again. But this time I was closer to hand when Gunner decided to collect her for me; as soon as he reached her I ordered him to 'sit' and 'leave' (several times and increasingly loudly); which he did, and I managed to scoop her up and return her to Mr White.

Perhaps the gundog will learn to distinguish between pheasants and chickens? Perhaps the chickens will learn to distinguish safe from not-so-safe?

Time will tell.