Reprise indoor hunting

Great kerfuffle in the background as I was finishing off the blog before this one. Unmistakeable sound of cat - and this time the innocent and lady-like Puddy Cat not the dastardly Waifa - playing in the hall with - what?
So off I go with my constant canine companion to investigate. Sure enough something small and black runs under the sideboard. Dog's nose instantly follows - bump! Black furry thing runs out other side into front porch; dog follows fast; thing hides behind umbrella pot; dog follows; great thump and scrape as dog moves pot; black furry thing shoots out the side................. straight into Dog's jaw. Which clamps shut and goes "gulp" as he - yes - swallows it even as I'm telling him to give it to me.
I've had to go back to this photo of him as an innocent put just to calm myself down.....:~(

A Sullen Sow

 Pigs are genial creatures on the whole. They might have a little grump and tussle with each other from time to time but for the most part they rub along nicely with most anyone, minding their own business until the next meal - when it's every man for himself! Mangalitzas are particularly friendly towards humans and, contrary to popular belief, it isn't all about the food!
So it takes us aback when one of our herd is off-colour; it doesn't happen often and leads to much head-scratching and musing until we (think we) get to the bottom of it.

 After my shooting lesson last Friday The Boss said Linda had reported that Ginger was restless and seemingly nervous. She'd been a bit off-colour the day before though so I wasn't convinced it was all about the shooting ('specially when He said I'd have to cease aiming at clays if it was upsetting her???!:-( ) She was still miserable and moochy and not much interested in her food (always a bad sign) on Saturday though and judging from the way Mangal's been pushing her about lately I thought it might have a little more to do with that than noises off left.
So on Sunday evening I opened the gates to Mangal's pen, giving him the opportunity to 'go home'.

Then it was a simple case of offering him breakfast there and, whilst he was eating, taking Ginger's breakfast up to her 'place'. She happily followed. And after eating up - the first time in days, she said, she hadn't been bullied away from her bowl - she set about sorting her house out and getting it just the way she  wanted it.
Mangal made to go back up to her place after he'd finished his food but on finding the gates shut was quite happy to go back and eat up his broccoli. And he hasn't really bothered much about her being away after that. And she's been back to her happy, bouncy self again. Which is such a relief. Nobody likes a sullen old sow!

Meanwhile, down in the field Precious's Little Fruits are growing bolder by the day. They try and get the best of both worlds by alternately
tucking into Mum's dinner bowl and hanging on to a teat whilst she's trying to eat. Yesterday I was schooling Rocco in the Playpen and, coming round a corner, found 9 little piglets standing in a row in the gateway watching! "Not many horses have such an animated audience to watch them work!" I thought to myself. They soon got bored though and scampered off to find some other mischief and, with The Bestest Gundog in the house at the time, they had pretty free rein.

Prickley balls!

 Shooting people will argue for hours about the merits of their dogs and the many ways in which Labradors are better than Spaniels and vice versa (there is even a sentiment - with which we obviously don't agree - which suggests that Labradors are born half-trained whereas spaniels - with luck - die half-trained!).

However, no-one would disagree that possibly the most prized attribute in any working dog is a soft mouth. Although both Labradors and Spaniels are equally blessed with the genetic and physical make-up which enables them to pick up and deliver their quarry without a hint of bruising, it is not a given that they always (or in some cases, ever) will. In the end it really boils down to what's going on the the dog's head - his attitude and character.

The Bestest Gundog in all the World has always been praised for his 'soft' mouth but even I was astounded with the 'surprise' he retrieved for me a couple of nights back.

The sun had already set when we went for our evening constitutional on Wednesday. Heading up the drive, as is our habit, I heard an odd yelping sound in the bushes and thought maybe the dog had bumped into the cat in the hedgerow. Moments later The BGiatW bounded up to me with something he'd found so I opened my hands to receive it from him and

"Ouch!" What the hell was it?

"Ouch" and "Ouch" again. The prickly ball just filled the palms of my hands - which were unfortunately gloveless. I wriggled my jacket sleeves down enough to take the creature off my skin. And took it home to show The Boss what the Dog had found. In a bit of a quandary - I didn't want to put it down on the ground because I knew it would just be retrieved - I decided to place it in a box of straw which I happened to have handy in the shed and put the box in the horse-trailer until we'd finished our walk -- when I thought I could release the baby hedgehog back to the hedgerow.

We resumed our walk up the drive.
Within a couple of minutes The Bestest Gundog appeared with another gift for me. Luckily I'd put my gloves on because it was another baby hedgehog. We turned back to the yard and I put it with its mate.
We resumed our walk again. We'd hardly gone 50 yards up the drive when yet another hedgehog was delivered to my hands - the Dog being truly delighted with himself by now. He ran panting alongside me as I took the third little creature back to the horse-trailer and put it with the others.
And off we went again. This time we managed a considerable distance before I heard another strange yelp; within moments a positively ecstatic young dog bounded up to me with a fourth baby hedgehog.  He was touchingly proud as he dropped it into my open palms, wagging his little tale as hard as he could and cocking his head from one side to the other as I marvelled at his skill in finding yet another prickly ball.
I haven't seen a hedgehog in the past 10 years and now I'd had four in my hands within a matter of minutes. I was totally amazed. I carried my prickly gift for the rest of our walk with my bouncy gundog alternately running beside me and dashing off into the hedgerow - presumably to see if he could find another.
Returning home we placed the 4th hedgehog in the box and, deciding to leave them all in safety for the night, I fetched them milk and cat-food. It was all gone the next morning. Three little balls had burrowed into the newpaper at the bottom of the box and the fourth was just having a little recce of his surroundings. Since they're nocturnal, I waited till after I'd walked the dogs the following evening before putting them, still in their box, back under the hedgerow.
Tonight, before our evening consitutional I went to check and, sure enough, all the hedgehogs had gone. But by the end of our walk I was carrying 3 hedgehogs! I'm sure it would have been 4 if I'd not stopped Gunner going off to find the last one.
It's no easy task to open a door when your hands are full of prickly balls but I put the Dog in the house and put the hedgehogs back under the hedge. And I hope that's the end of it. I've a feeling though that this could become a habit now that Gunner has the scent of them. If so, I'll have to take the little creatures away from their territory - and ours - to a place where they won't keep being retrieved!
The MOST remarkable thing about all this though is that Gunner has not a single mark on him from the hedgehog spines. He was carrying the prickly balls very, very gently indeed. Surely that must signify a truly soft mouth.

Spreading our wings

 The Pork Provisioner has been attending a regular set of Farmer's Markets throughout  the past few months.
It's been instructive, entertaining, hard work, sometimes too hot, sometimes a little wet, occasionally a little unexciting but never dull. Just when I thought I was getting into a bit of a routine though The Big Boss decided we needed to spread our wings a little!
So there I was at 0730 last Friday, in the car and on the phone:
"Where did you say I should turn after the immediate left after the first left after the main lights?"

And he said:

"It can't be far from where you are: you should be able to see it. Drive on a little. No. Don't go over the level crossing!"

So I drove on and asked someone and they told me where to go - in the nicest possible way - and when I got there I asked someone else and they said I was in the wrong place so I turned round and drove back the other way and asked another chap and he said I should go down there and turn off to the 2nd left and I'd see it on the left. And fortunately he was right because it was getting late and I knew I needed to set up and have the car off the pedestrian precinct before 0830.  As it turned out I needn't have worried at all. The Council provided the stall so all I had to do was get the Provisions set out, go find somewhere to park, walk back and enjoy the day.

Which was no hardship with a Baker on one side of me and Home-made Ice Cream on the other. Plus lots of different people to watch: always amazes me how much the local culture changes from town to town! I'd also like to thank the Curly Coats' Appreciation Society for turning out to Grimsby in large numbers so that the day was an economic success. Which means we'll be back again next month and the one after, and after that.........

Meanwhile, down in the field Precious' young litter (now known as the Fruits) will be 3 weeks old tomorrow. They've been spreading their wings since the first week and are more frequently to be seen, as here, in the next door pens where their aunts live. Precious is totally blase about it, to the extent that she can frequently be seen excavating near the fences so her youngsters can more easily trot off! Sadly we lost the runt of the litter, whom we'd nicknamed Pygmy Pig. She was a game little thing and never missed out on the litter's adventures and expeditions but clearly she was too tiny to withstand their boisterous ways and died overnight on Saturday. We suspect she was the last-born and was too late or slow to the teats thus missing out on the vital colostrum.

Other young things just learning to spread their wings are the last but one set of swallow nestlings. Their size forced them to leave the security of their nest on top on top of the striplight last week. Since then they've been perching on top of the Stalls partitions, practicing their flying from one to the other and then back to the hay rack. This morning, however, it was time for the real thing and whilst I was feeding the 4 young Clarissas in there, off they all flew, chirrupping excitedly. They were back in again this evening to sleep but in the next day or two they'll be gone for good. Leaving just one nest of hatchlings in Rocco's stable.

When they spread their wings to depart into the sunset in a week or two it will signal the end of summer.

Indoor hunting

The other night The Boss and I were enjoying a  quiet few minutes watching a rare favourite programme on the TV. I became aware of a banging noise coming from somewhere outside the Snug.
"What's that?" I asked Himself.
"What?" he asked
"That noise" I replied as the strange sounds continued: the banging turned to dull thumping.
"It's definitely coming from the hall" I said, getting up and walking in that direction, closely followed by The Bestest Gundog. I followed the noise; he followed his nose. We both ended up in the same place. In front of the sideboard. Waifa was there too. Looking, as we were, at........ well, nothing really for there was nothing to be seen. But The Dog's nose and The Cat's nose were both glued to the bottom of the sideboard. I looked over the back and there, tucked in the corner of the shallow alcove behind the furniture, was a cowering baby bunny. Himself moved the furniture a little away from the wall and planted his foot in the gap. The Dog guarded the exit at the other side and the cat the front whilst I sneaked in the back behind the foot....... And quickly grabbed the trembling little creature and took it outside, firmly shutting doors to keep cat and dogs indoors. I released the bunny in the field the other side of the bridleway where I hoped it might have a chance of getting away from further feline (or other) predators!

The next night as I was walking through to the kitchen from the Snug, followed again by The Bestest Gundog, I was overtaken by my canine companion. I wondered at his sudden hurry. On reaching the kitchen I was greeted by said dog coming towards me proudly carrying another young bunny. Behind him was That Cat with a look of annoyance about her. "He's pinched the dinner I bought you" she seemed to be saying!

Out went the dinner: it wasn't the same young bunny but even so I took it in another direction and released it. After a few moments to adjust to its unexpected freedom away it bounced.

It's not just that The Cat known as Waifa seems insistent on bringing us fresh meat for dinner (perhaps she thinks we should diversify away from Pork?) she also brings it in through the half-open scullery window. A very determined young madam indeed.

For a couple of days it went quiet. We had guests for the weekend. I was preparing the dinner on Saturday evening.

"Here comes Waifa with something in her mouth" exclaimed one of our guests in slight agitation. "Shut all the doors leading out of the kitchen" I said in equal agitation. Too late. Waifa dropped her gift on the floor. It ran. Behind the sofa. Followed by The Bestest Gundog. Under the sofa. Pursued by the latter's nose. We tipped up the sofa. Mouse ran into a corner. Dog sniffed and Mouse ran off again. This went on... and on.... for a while till finally The Dog caught it and triumphantly brought it to me. The Cat watched in disdain. Our guests were not entirely amused either. Charades before dinner anyone?

That wasn't the end of it. The Bestest Gundog is to be trusted in every situation; he never lies. But he has a handler who cannot always believe that. Anyway, the mouse was caught so the fact that the dog was pointing his nose in the direction of the kitchen cabinet did not  mean the mouse was there. It was probably just the scent of it. "He's clearly pointing" said our guest, looking at The Bestest Gundog whose head was clearly tilted to one side, ears obviously alert and stubby tail quivering with anticipation.
Of What? There was nothing there. But our Guests and The Boss would have none of it. "The Dog thinks there is something there?" they all said.
So, down on my belly (how else to look under a floor standing kitchen cabinet?) and removing the facia panel at the bottom I, and my eager canine companion, peer under the cabinet. Actually, he tries to squeeze himself under the cabinet. Still I can see nothing - except loads of dust and dog hair. But the dog sniffs and excitedly runs round the other side of the cabinet. Followed by Yours Truly. Another facia panel is removed and "THERE He's got it!!" everyone yells at me. And sure enough, he had indeed got - another little mouse in his mouth! I think it's beyond a joke but everyone else is amused.
"Told you!" said The Boss, in that annoyingly knowing voice; "The Dog never lies!"

The following afternoon I came indoors with the dogs to:

"Alan's just seen something small and black, a bit like a slug, but with legs and it ran across the floor and disappeared!"
The Cat's little Joke is wearing thin........

"Why didn't you catch it?" I asked, slightly short-termpered.

"Because we're just a little squeamish and towney." replied my guest.

So - The Bestest gundog was summoned again.

And off he went. Round the kitchen, behind the sofa, sniffing here, there, everywhere; following the slug-on-legs' trail through kitchen, dining room, sitting room (because nobody thought to shut the doors!) until he located it behind ------ another sideboard. Which is far too heavy to move. So there the creature stayed. With The Dog's nose firmly attached to the underside of the sideboard. And we all got on with dinner.

"There is is!!!" shouted The Boss, mid-mouthful, making me almost choke on my air-dried ham and melon. At the cry the little shrew doubled back from the path it was about to take across the kitchen to the outside world...... and retreated to the safety of the sideboard again.
Well. The Bestest Gundog stayed on guard. We all continued with dinner. The creature didn't appear again and we all forgot about it.
Some things take precedence over guarding intruders though and Gunner and Pilot both joined me in the pantry whilst I prepared their dinner. It's one of the most favourite times of the day for Gunner. Just as we came out of the door heading for the scullery Pilot's caught sight of something by the kitchen cabinet ---- and off he darted, quicker than I thought he could still dart and, with a sudden scrambling lunge, caught the shrew in the corner just before it rounded it and made the sanctuary of the sideboard again.
I don't know who was more surprised, Pilot or I. Perhaps he was because I said "Drop it" rather sternly and, for the only time in his life that I can remember, he actually did drop it. That stopped me in my tracks! But I recovered just in time to scoop the little beastie up before it recovered from the shock and set off for the sideboard again.  And I took it outside and put it in the flower bed.
It's now Tuesday and - I think - Waifa has tired of that little game. It's all gone quiet. The guests have left (not because of the animal antics, although maybe....?) and indoor hunting is off the agenda.

What was that just running across the floor.................?

News from Afar

Regular readers will recall that earlier this year Andromeda went on a journey away from RectoryReserve in order to meet her husband-to-be - J.D. We went to visit her in May, when we took this photo and since then her Landlord, the Nice Mr Thomas, has been giving us regular reports on her demeanour and welfare.
She and JD, we were told, hit it off and all was set for piglets to arrive the mandatory 3 months, 3 weeks and 3 days later: i.e. sometime in early August.
We were delighted, therefore, to hear the happy news of the birth of her piglets on the 5th and asked the Nice Mr T to send us some pictures of the family, intending, inter alia, to post one or two with the announcement on this very blog. However, as is often the way with young mothers, it would seem she's been keeping them out of sight and no photos have yet been forthcoming.
"Andromeda chased Keith (Mr T) across the pen with such ferocity this afternoon that he had to vault over the fence to save himself" said The Boss with a wicked grin when he came through to the kitchen for dinner this evening.
"Good mother then?" I replied "Did he manage to confirm how many piglets she's had?"
"No" said he "He was more concerned to save his skin!".
When The Nice Mr T told us the birth was on the 5th, he said he thought there were 5 of them but he wasn't sure: maybe he'll be able to see from afar tomorrow and let us know! Don't suppose he'll be wanting to go and have a close look for a little while yet!
She'll make a good mother....

The difference with mature mothers..

 Precious is from Ginger and Mangal's first litter, born in November 2007. Her litter, born on the morning of 2nd August, was her 6th. That makes her a pretty mature mother. Maybe explains some things too.
Firstly, the night before giving birth to her piglets, Precious was out and about and asking for her nightly pick of grass as usual. There wasn't any sign of nesting to be seen. Or maybe, since she wasn't due for another week or so, I didn't really look. Being mature, she clearly knew there was no need to rush things. "The night is yet young" she must have thought to herself.
The next morning, therefore, I was taken aback when she didn't come out promptly for breakfast. It took me a few minutes to catch on. But I was still surpised when I peered at the entrance to her ark and saw the distinct outline of piglets.
By the time I'd done the breakfast round, however, she was out and eating heartily from her bowl. Whilst she was otherwise engaged I climbed into her pen and looked in the ark. And counted 8 little wriggly bodies. Some of them still very small and slimey wet.
"AAAhh" I thought "Only just been born."
But as I walked back home for breakfast I was just a little bit disappointed. Up till now, apart from the first litter, she has alternately farrowed 9 or 10 piglets each time.
"Must be her age. She's a mature sow now" I thought to myself and went about the rest of my day.
Before she was going home, Linda checked in.
"Precious and her piglets all doing fine" she said "And I definitely counted 10!" she added chirpily. I smiled and thought: "That's the thing with mature mothers, they get their priorities right.... give birth to some piglets, have a bite to eat to restore some energy and then go back and give birth to the rest.... Clever girl."
That also explained why some of the piglets were so wet and also why, when I looked at Precious eating her breakfast, she still had blood on her posterior.
Two mornings later I was amazed to see four of the just 48-hour-old litter merrily, if somewhat precariously, tottering around the muddy pen. Precious was keeping her snout firmly within sniffing distance to give them support and reassurance.
That's another thing with mature mothers. No molly-coddling. The Kids want to go out and explore? So be it.

Later in the day, I was amazed to see all 10 piglets out and about in the sunshine and quite happy to be away from their mother. Safety in numbers, as ever. Gunner sat beside me looking in at their pen.

"Looks like another bundle of trouble I'll have to sort out" he was probably thinking to himself!

Precious didn't leave them alone for too long though. She turned, counted them all (sows do that: every time they are reunited with their piglets - whether after a short food break, or a longer adventure when the piglets have been out exploring, the mother always counts them) and then urged them back into the ark for their tea.

Which is another thing about mature mothers. No panic. Let the children play then quietly take them home, feed them and put them to bed till it's time for another adventure.
That's the difference with Mature Mothers. They don't worry about a thing. And that means nor do we.



All's well...

It was really hot on Wednesday. There were some thunderstorms but, apart from a few heavy showers, the rain largely missed Fulletby. Lucky for me: I had a shooting lesson in the afternoon - it rained before ....and after, but not during. The shooting went very well.
Yesterday it rained all day. We had our lowest generation (from the solar panels) ever.  The pigs were able to wallow to their hearts' content - 'cept they didn't really want to, it not being exactly hot! After our hack round the lanes, I put the horses out in the field - the reasons for keeping them in during the day (heat and flies) being absent. Mr Ritz promptly walked up to the not-on electric fence, looked at me and then proceeded to walk straight through it (his latest trick - new battery now on the to-buy list). "You don't expect me to stay out here in the rain?" he said - in his way.
Hanna, our latest student-on-work-experience, got splattered in mud when we fed the pigs at tea time.
"Par for the course!" I told her. (She turned up in more workmanlike colours today rather than the creams and whites of yesterday! Learned something then.)
We don't have bad days here, but it did rank as 'not a particularly good day'.
Then when I went out to do evening rounds and shut up the poultry this scene is what greeted me. The photo doesn't do it justice. The whole sky was the most glorious golden pink. How could a person not feel good?
"All's well...." etc then, and I went to sleep thinking it had not been too bad a day at all.......

Precious Delivers another tenner

 To Samson and Precious a pile of ten wriggly piglets; born before and after breakfast on Tuesday 2 August. Mother and little ones doing well.

Full details to follow........

Showtime again

 Last weekend was one of the favourites in our Calendar. The annual Heckington Agricultural Show, now in its 144th year, is a great place to mix business with pleasure. It's one of the delights we only discovered when the Curly Coats came into our lives and this year was our 4th and, if anything, it was the best yet. Last year saw record attendance of 25,000; the numbers haven't all been compiled yet, but I'm certain they will be well up on that.

In previous years we have taken Ginger's offspring but as all her female 'Deserts' are out with custodians we took our burgeoning filmstars (Well? BBC in Spring, ITV in Summer - maybe MGM in Autumn?) We polished and primped and permed them for their 2-day sojourn. Hard work ! But well worth it for all the attention and admiration they attracted! They loved playing to the Gallery but it did wear them out. We were a little worried they might be upset by the fireworks and band playing well into the night but  they settled down and went to sleep straight after dinner- Zonked!

 It wasn't just the Curly Coats who were tired after the show. Gunner's been coming with us every year and takes his Guard duties very seriously. Being such a handsome hound he attracts almost as much attention as the pigs, praised and petted by children and adults alike. It's testimony to his laid back nature that he puts up with it all. Even when we put him behind our chairs for a bit of a rest - though he did sleep some of the time - he mostly watched everything going on around him. He made up for it when we got home: Apart from waking up for his dinner and having a brief run before bed, he was out for the count.

 We're always located in the Heritage Breeds tent alongside some magnificent Lincoln Red Cattle and these rather amazing Lincoln Longwool sheep - it being THE show for this breed. The county's wealth was built on their fleece and it's easy to see why from these prime examples. The sheep in the foreground would have been shorn last March and the one in the background in March the previous year. It was seriously hot over the weekend which speaks much for the animals' constitution. Fortunately for them, one of the main features of the show is the Shearing at the end of Sunday afternoon. Not surprisingly they wait patiently in line for their turn to feel fresh air on their skins. There is a considerable prize, not to mention honour, for the heaviest fleece!

 Another of this County's heritage breeds is the Shire Horse. Heckington features the usual showing classes but there are also opportunities to see the horses being harnessed up for work - intrepid members of the crowd can volunteer to help and try their hand at driving them!. The Handler providing the demonstration on Saturday explained that his Prize ploughing mare had particularly small feet - a sought after trait, not only because the cost of shoes was lower, but because she did not tread down the walls of the furrows as she walked between them! The ploughing matches are a great draw as well, particularly since they include some of the early machines which gradually replaced the horses.

Whether or not these provided a better finished article I wouldn't know but they did underline in Bold the majesty and grace of their four-legged forebears. The rapport between man and beast - as the handler explained "We have only our voices and our hands on the reins to tell them what to do" - lent a certain romance to an otherwise toilsome task.  Working with creatures like those must have been like Showtime every day.......