It hasn't stopped raining.....

We may have (accidentally!) enjoyed the odd dry day and there's even been the occasional burst of sunshine, but the predominant feature since what seems like forever and certainly since The New Romantics came into this world has been Rain. Some of the smaller pigs are up to their bellies in squaddy (as they call it round here). Linda keeps saying:

"Surely it wasn't this wet last year?"

But it probably was. She and I feel sorry for the youngsters but when we are in danger of getting mopey or depressed about it The Boss reminds us that pigs love dirt! So they must be in heaven just now!

In a short spell between showers or downpours on Saturday Precious allowed her new brood to explore the outside world - but only as far as a metre or so away from the door. They mooched and snuffled for a few minutes and then decided that actually, just like Mum told them, indoors really was best - for now.

And talking of Mums..................... There's been a lot of talk in some quarters over the past year or so about possible 'wives' for The Bestest Gundog. One in particular is a fellow beating companion who, having been deemed a little small and light last year, was lined up for the role as soon as she came into season this year. Which she duly did earlier this month and when we got the call there was great excitement amongst certain members of this household..... But it all came to nought because by the time she was brought here she was beyond the due days..... all she did was snap and bark at her paramour.

Then there was Flo. A very nice young thing if a bit light and timid. She was 'in Season' just as we went on Holiday last year so that scuppered things and when her owner rang in great excitement a couple of weeks back saying he needed to bring her here "Now, today" we had high hopes. But she too snapped and barked at the Handsomest Dog in all the World, showing quite clearly that "No, this was not the right time."

Having planned the entire year around the likelihood of having at least one pup about the place I was more than a little disappointed.

"What I'm looking for is a well bred bitch" I said to one of my gamekeeper colleagues when, on bumping into each other at the Feed Merchant on Saturday he enquired as to the Dog's progress on the mating front. A bit forward I know but needs must!

He rang later that evening:

"If you can get the Dog over to Sleaford tomorrow you may be in luck!"

So off we went, me and young Romeo...... and once again we were met with snapping and barking and all the signs of "Too late, young man!". Which is a great shame because she has the most stellar pedigree even though she was not the prettiest of the three.....

"I did say I thought it was too late" said the nice owner "But I could have been wrong and it's always worth a try."

Well, "Yes"--- and "No".

All the bitches will come into season again, with luck, in August. And the owners all say they want to return....... At least now I am well clued up on exactly which are the right days so we'll keep our fingers crossed that (a) the owners notice the moment their bitches come into season and (b) that the three young ladies, jointly or severally, haven't put the Bestest Gundog off women for life!!!!!

"You gave the chap the wrong specification" said the boss. "What you should have said you needed was a well bred tart who'd been about a bit."

As ever, he put his finger on it.................

Little 'uns and Big 'uns

Turns out there are 9 little Romantics! Clever Precious!

Here they are on Thursday morning snuggling up at the back of the Ark whilst Mum attended to her breakfast. She's being very protective: I managed to take a couple of photos but then she was back, sticking her snout in noisily and counting that none were missing.
So far they have been kept indoors which is just as well in view of the rain and mud outside..... but I bet it won't be many more days before they're out and about visiting with their aunts next door.

On the subject of Aunts, as planned we moved Delila and Samson up to the Woods on Friday. As ever, it was necessary beforehand to do a bit of preparation. Over the past couple of years one of the arcs has gradually been sinking into, and filling up with, mud. In order to dig it out The Boss arranged with a local farming colleague to come and help. Digging out the ark manually would have taken hours but with the help of the farmer's Manitu vehicle it was possible to winch it up in the air, dig the ground level again and then replace the ark - but with its door facing away from the flow of the mud - all within the space of an hour or so. A few snowdrops got squashed in the process but that was a small price to pay for so much labour saved!

And then in the afternoon it was 'all hands to the pump' to move Samson and Delila. Actually we would have moved Samson without Delila but she insisted in loading up first; as soon as we opened the gate to their paddock she trotted very determinedly up the ramp into the trailer before anyone could blink. Samson would probably have followed her but, because of the extremely slippery ground conditions, The Boss was not at all keen on transporting the two of them at the same time. So it was a good job that she was quick and Samson was slow.......

We left her checking out the new accommodation and went back for Samson..... and he was not going to do anything in haste. Very sensibly. He wandered over to the trailer ramp and had a good sniff and then backed off and chewed a bit of grass, then moved forward again and snuffled up some food that was on the ramp - then backed off and returned to the safety of his pen to consider matters in peace. Eventually he approached the trailer again and repeatedly went towards and away from the ramp.... checking out that everything was safe I suspect and, no doubt, enjoying the attention and all the tit-bits that were being used to entice him to do as we wanted. The four 'Good Men and True' and we two females waited patiently chatting amongst ourselves; no sense getting agitated or trying to hurry a 3-400kg chap with fierce tusks - he'd only get upset.... and then we would be in trouble!

Finally, having examined everything to his satisfaction and assured himself that there were no hidden dangers he inched very slowly up the ramp, into the trailer and stuck his snout in the feed bowl.

He was so engrossed in chomping that, on arriving at the Woods, he was oblivious to the ramp going down and the doors opening.

If Tony hadn't said:

"Oi mate, the door's open!"

and banged heavily on the side of the trailer Samson would likely as not quite happily have stayed inside. As it was, he looked round at the noise, saw daylight behind him, turned and trotted happily up to where Delila was still examining their new premises. It may not be the biggest pen but it does have the advantage of two houses...... the Big 'uns will be able to have one each..... luxury indeed.

PS to the previous

She's not called Precious for nothing. Yesterday afternoon she duly delivered 6.... or 7 ...or 8... or possibly even 9 little New Romantics...........................more news and photos to follow.............

Looking forward

Been having a little difficulty connecting with the web lately: called in the Man who fixes computers and he 'fixed' things and within a matter of hours the connection was broken again. Very frustrating..... But he was coming back to fix something else so he re-fixed my internet connection ----- and when I wanted to use it it was unfixed again. And then we discovered what was happening..... Puddy Cat likes to sit on the wi-fi router box - it's nice and warm - especially if the sun is shining through the window, and if she wiggles she manages to loosen the connection at the back. Now we know the cause the solution is simple: disconnect, reconnect and away you go............ Retraining Puddy Cat is a different matter and will doubtless take forever.

Can't blame Cat for seeking out warm places: having just come in from a very wet and blustery 'outdoors' I found myself thinking we are back in the depths of an extremely hostile winter! Yet only a few days ago I was out and about recording signs of spring - at last...... and today when exercising the horses I smiled to see the first primrose and the first crocus on the grass alongside the drive.....

Samson and Delila have been doing a bit of spring-cleaning too or maybe she was complaining that it was a little stuffy indoors and they'd need air-conditioning in time for summer..... he, being so very obliging, got on to it right away. Only his D-i-Y skills are not yet finely honed and he's made it just a little too draughty for the not-quite-spring we're having. So come Friday he, and maybe she, will have to be moved to the woods for a while so that necessary repairs can be carried out. They've been modifying their fence alongside the bridleway too so that will be seen to at the same time...... don't really want a fully grown Boar, however woolly and handsome, taking it upon himself to go walk-about on the public highway.....

Despite the wet and blustery stuff it is still warm enough to provoke other signs of spring. The hens are coming back into lay one by one (The Boss was reminding me only this morning as we ate our boiled egg breakfast that they each 'cost' about the same as caviar!) and the ducks have started building their nests. Gunner's future wives' owners have also been in touch and it looks like there could be interesting developments later this week!!!

Which brings me back to pigs; Precious is imminently due to Deliver - judging from her demeanour and deportment this evening it could even be tomorrow............................ a litter of New Romantics maybe? That's one of the most rewarding parts of Life at RectoryReserve -Even on the wettest and windiest of nights there is still a lot to look forward to................

All done and dusted....

That's it then! All over until September. The Cocking Days were fascinating. And there are still a few cock birds left to contest their territory over the coming months .......

Contrary to all the macho banter there's a very strict ettiquette which governs these events. I was fortunate to be welcomed on the cocking days of two of our regular shoots. At the beginning of each day those present were split into two teams: alternately each would 'stand' (in the manner of the Guns on a normal shooting day) or 'walk' (with their guns and dogs but 'beating' for the standing guns). Rules were read out: 'standing guns' could shoot anything in the air except hen pheasants and mating pairs of partridge. They could also shoot safe ground game - rabbits mostly. 'Walking guns' could only shoot game in the air if it was flying 'back' or squirrels either in their drays (nests) or if seen running up trees. If in any doubt, safety was to be the deciding factor. Sweepstakes were organised: in one case simply how many head were shot by each team at the end of the day and which team would win and in the other how many legs would be accounted for and how many shots fired by the end of the day!

There were many strange sights throughout these days. Not least on the first of the two shoots, the Keeper had arranged for his daughter and I to have a gun each and to share a stand; with a licensed 'gun' accompanying us at all times to ensure safety! In addition, we were 'standing' guns - the safer position - all day. And that was fine: except it was a particularly freezing cold day - 'yes' the sky was blue and 'yes' the ground was dry but golly was it cold!! At the end of the first drive my hands were so numb I was unable to resist the temptation to place them in the insulated and warm pockets of our male companion - which gave rise to much bawdy humour from the rest of the male contingent.... By the end of the second drive I was full of admiration for all the guns who had shot so well during the previous blisteringly cold weeks. By the end of the morning I was totally numb. Beating is by far the saner end of the sport! It is also by far the 'easier' position. Many times throughout the Seasons I have found myself criticising Guns for missing their quarry: never again.... it is no mean feat to get ahead of the bird and to have the timing and skill to hit it straight and clean!

From the perspective of a permanent Standing Gun, despite the cold it was a peaceful and crisp day: few birds came our way: far fewer were shot at (we dubbed ourselves 'the Conservation Team'), two were vaguely 'hit' and only one was killed - and that by my partner, the Keeper's daughter. The total for the day - which ended reasonably early at 1615 pm - was but 94 so, considering there were 10 guns on each team, we had not missed many! On the other hand, we had a thoroughly enjoyable day, learned a good deal about etiquette and safety and gained much confidence in use of a shotgun. Better careful than careless. Worth more than gold.

That was on the Saturday and with the gun to worry about I left the Dog at home for a day's rest. However the following Tuesday - the 1st February (the very last day of the Season)- both dog and I turned up to beat at the Cocking Day for the other shoot. After entering the sweepstake - feet and shots - and reading of the rules we set off. It had rained continuously since dawn but soon after we set off the rain stopped and a wintry sun poked through the clouds. It augured well for the day. Before long the Dog was gasping for water (which luckily he found in a nearby stream) and all humans were shedding at least one layer.

After a reviving Slogasm (Sloe gin and Champagne) at mid-morning we walked all day. In contrast to the previous Cocking Day, the dog and I beat all day. He more than justified his place in the beating line. I swear I walked at least 15 miles so goodness knows how many miles Gunner covered. Suffice to say that by the time the sun went down and the day was ended (1630hrs when we finished the final drive - and this was the more restrained of the two shoots???!!!) - we were both well and truly worn out. We did however win the sweep for the 'number of shots fired' which was a fitting end to an exhausting day and a fulfilling Season.....

We have spent all this week recovering--- overcoming adrenalin shock and withdrawal symptoms.............

"So what are your plans for the months between now and next Season?" asked Linda, later in the week, over a relaxing glass of wine.

Well; she has a point. The Bestest Gundog in all the World has worked 33 days this season compared with 39 last season and 26 in his first year. He has been a reliable and steadfast companion and far better behaved than any of the other working dogs we have encountered. BUT he has developed a few wayward tendencies and the occasional 'deafness' - solely due to the confidence and knowledge developed over the seasons. He loves his job and is never untrustworthy or dishonest. But there is room for improvement; scope for sharpening up.

So - a couple of weeks of rest and recuperation - gentle walks and heel work - and then it'll be a case of working out how to correct the faults and hone the skills........................ no resting on laurels even for THE BESTEST gundog.....