Excluded from school

Last year we sent a couple of young gilts to St Lawrence's School in Horncastle which caters for children who have special skills and/or needs. Sausage and Bacon, as they came to be called, returned to us at the end of their 'educational stay' the very model of the perfect Curly Coat pig. So much so that their photograph adorns our entrance porch.
Being asked for two more gilts this year, we were more than delighted to oblige. Whilst Sausage and Bacon went soon after weaning, this year's Intake were deliberately older because the time available to them at the school was considerably shorter and we thought it might be a little unsettling for youngsters - they'd only just be getting into their lessons when they'd have to stop. Thus it was that a Truffle and an Asteroid left here some 6 weeks ago.
"I think one of the girls is pregnant!" came the frantic call on Saturday morning. To say The Boss and I were surprised was an understatement. Between the phone call and going to see for ourselves an hour later we scratched our heads, consulted the wall chart (detailing the history of the whole herd), weighed up the possibilities and finally concluded that there was a very small chance that the Asteroid could have been impregnated by her brother in the depths of winter when we considered them far too immature for such behaviour.
"Clearly they found a way to keep warm through the cold snowy nights" opined Linda - "And him with a prolapse too!" Which was one of the reasons he was with two of the girls: he'd been getting pushed around by the other boys so we thought he'd be 'safer' with the two girls! And wasn't he just! The other reason he stayed with the girls longer than would otherwise have been the case was because of the inclement weather making it too difficult to move him. And, of course, we thought it would all be OK.

Piglets born at the school would have been wonderful for the children but not with the summer holidays fast approaching so it seemed best alround to bring the two girls home a.s.a.p. "Fancy being excluded from school for being in pig" I said to The Boss. When she found herself in the barn with a full bowl of food the little Asteroid was quite contented. Which was more than could be said for her Truffle companion, who spent quite a while looking up (literally) and down for her companion. Of course, the whole herd is now in quarantine for three weeks so hopefully she'll settle down soon because she's going nowhere else in a hurry.

Meanwhile, with needing to put the pregnant pig in the barn the duck who has been in there with her solitary duckling these past three weeks or so had to move to the outdoor pen with the bantams. The duckling was a bit confused about being placed in a deep bucket for his journey to the outside world - and I think mother duck was rather indignant too. But that was all forgiven when they realised they were outside with water to swim in. Mind you I had to swap the water bowl in the photo for a plant water tray because the duckling couldn't scrabble out. Poor thing, I found him squeaking for all he was worth and trying to jump out but his little wings are still to weak to flap. He's happy enough now in his tray though.

Armed Forces Day

 What could be better on a hot and sultry summer afternoon than to linger in the shade marvelling at the antics of a troupe of Morris Dancers. We particularly admired these chaps since (a) they were dancing energetically in ridiculously hot conditions and (b) the organisers had seemingly ommitted to tell anyone that they were coming so there was hardly anyone about - most having succumbed to the heat and wandered homewards after the marching bands and childrens' choir had done their bit - to witness their art. But, as I said, we emjoyed it.

The point of our being there was to support the town's Armed Forces Day - one of a series of activities planned throughout the country over the weekend to pay tribute to all those who give their work and lives in support of the nation, whether at home or overseas. A worthy cause and one we were more than happy to donate our time to as well as 20% of our takings going to Help 4 Heroes. It wasn't very well (if at all?) marketed so the anticipated crowds didn't materialise and we didn't raise as much as we'd hoped but "every little bit helps" as they say and - looking on the bright side - we got back home earlier than planned!

Bedtime

Remember that Buff hen who survived the fox attack because she was helping the duck sit on her nest of eggs! Well, I've just been out to shut them all up and this was the scene tonight. You can probably just see a little duckling poking out from under her wing and in front of her you'll be able to make out the duck, who has a chick and two more ducklings under her wings (which you can't see). All just one big happy family.
Aaaahhhh

Night Owls

We've got an international group of Mangalitza people coming tomorrow to visit the pigs and sample some products, en route to the inaugural Annual Conference up in Aberdeenshire. That'll be fun. I have a sense of impending chaos but no doubt it'll all 'turn out alright on the night' - as they say.
Speaking of night, the Martian Deserts are becoming ever more independent of their mum. It really is most disconcerting when checking round just before dark to suddenly be assailed by the unmistakeable snuffling and scuttling of a bunch of adventurous piglets at your heels. As Linda said, "Wherever you turn, there they are - in this, up that, over and under everything else".

In his customarily gentle fashion, Gunner last night told the most persistent three little stop-outs a bit of a bedtime pigtail - after which, off they trotted to Mum (you can probably just make her out in the background) and then to bed!
They are now past the magical 7 weeks though and their wanderings will end when we wean them tomorrow afternoon. Sad to restrain such energetic little spirits - we'll miss their cheeky presence about the yard/garden/outbuildings/fields but Ginger is starting to look tired and Mangal is starting to look longingly in her direction.
But there we are - one set of games in the dark will end and soon another will begin. Night owls - the lot of them....!

The drought continues..

 Since drought was officially declared hardly a day has passed that it hasn't rained. This is good news for many reasons.  Everywhere the grass is growing - on our favourite hunting ground the Bestest Gundog in all the World is almost impossible to see half the time (good for dog maybe, not so good for his  boss!).

In the orchard the apples are filling and ripening; the cooler weather has led to many of the smaller fruits dropping already but those that are left should be more than enough to keep us and the pigs and the ponies going well into the winter. A bumper crop of gooseberries means we'll have gooseberry and mint jelly with (possibly all!) the game this winter and we may well tire of gooseberry fool before the week is out! And the loganberries will be ready for making into jam next week - a fortnight or more earlier than in any previous year.

Meanwile in the rose garden, although some of the earlier blooms are past their best, the Rambling Rector is more than living up to its name and is well on the way to taking over the whole estate! Its supporting arch has been reinforced and some of the windswept branches have been trimmed back but still it grows from strength to strength. 

Of course, the farmers still say the rain is too late to rectify the damage the drought has already caused and - needless to add - prices will rocket as the year goes on. No doubt we will also learn that the drought which stopped the grass growing in time to make hay was not half as bad as the rain which never stopped falling as soon as it was time to start cutting. Unless of course the drought continues, in which case there will be no hay either way.
(Goodness, sounds like I been living in the country too long........?????)

Breakfast Monitor

 It was our "Fathers' (Mangal & Samson) Open Day" and, as part of the lead up to the proceedings, we ran a competition to name Ginger's Little Deserts. The stand-out winner imaginatively suggested the names of some of the deserts on Mars. Such a creative idea we just knew that Mangal and Ginger would approve. So, we now have: (boys) Prometheus, Noa, Tyrrhenus, Cimmerian and Meridan and (girls) Siren, Sabea and Aonia. Nice or what?
"Martians is appropriate" I said to The Boss when he read the Entry out to me "From the way they keep investigating every nook and cranny  (including my newly planted flower pots and the kitchen lawn) you'd think they were aliens trying to suss things out." Actually, I suppose that's just what piglets are.
Anyway, they spend more time out of Mum's pen than in it. Starting with breakfast. They tumble through the fence wire and scramble into the food bowls before I have time to put them in the pen with Ginger. Gunner has assumed the role of Breakfast Monitor and takes it as a matter of pride to ensure they assemble in one place till the bowls are cleaned up. Not something the Martian Deserts object to!

 Ginger doesn't complain at all; (a) because at least one, and sometimes, two of the piglets stay and share her bowl and (b) because she probably gets to eat more of her own food than if they were all trying to get in her bowl! Apart from that, having been through the process 7 times before, she knows that it'll soon be weaning time. (Memo to keep an eye on Mangal because any day now he'll start collecting bowls for Ginger's return!).

With the exception of Ginger, all the pigs are now on a new breakfast regime of fresh vegetables only. The Big Boss has set up an arrangement with a local producer and packer whereby we collect trugs of fresh green produce every week - goods which would otherwise be destined for the leading supermarkets but which are past their 'keep-by' date. One week it's cauliflower, another it's pointy or savoy cabbage, next it could be broccoli or whatever - or it could be a mix of any or all. Mostly the veg. is fresher than it would be off the supermarket shelves because it comes straight from the chiller. Anyway, the pigs love it although some of them like one type of veg more than another. It gives them a more varied diet and one which they can 'graze' on for much of the day and they also then look forward to a change at tea time when they have their proprietary pig feed as well as veg. Best of all, the greens are all organic so we can maintain our "no additives, no preservatives" ethos. Plus with substituting vegetables for some breakfast we can more easily monitor the expanding waistlines - something which Samson, below, is very keen on!

Broken Home

Looking through the window I can see the rain falling outside as I write. However, despite this recent wet spell the effects of the long drought continue to reverberate.
Quite early on in the Spring a news item featured the difficulty swallows were experiencing trying to build their nests with next to no mud available to glue them together. The Big Boss himself had commented on the fact that he'd never before seen swallows spending time in the pigs' wallows. Clearly they were fetching out what mud they could.
In previous summers we have had up to half a dozen pairs of these birds nesting in the horses' stable barn and usually a few more in the other outbuildings. This year we have just three breeding pairs. One of these chose to refurbish an old nest above the water drinker in Ritz's stable. Since the end of last week the parents have been noisily and constantly flitting in and out trying to keep up with their young family's voracious appetite. I spent a few moments watching them whilst Ritz was eating his breakfast yesterday morning.

Mucking out later in the afternoon I noticed how quiet it was. Swallows are the chirpiest of birds. Gunner stood up at Ritz's drinker. I misunderstood and, thinking he was thirsty, offered him a bucket of water. He didn't want it but returned to the drinker. Following him I looked to see what had caught his attention. There in the water lay two drowned hatchlings. Looking up I saw why. Their nest had collapsed. Their frantic cheeping for attention and food presumably caused the frail fabric to give way.
The parents spent the night in the barn.
This morning theyere noisily investigating all the beams and corners. Broken homes can be very traumatic.