Total Wash Out

The last twenty four hours at Rock HQ has involved us running for cover to escape monsoon like downpours that have halted all outside jobs. Except for essential feeding and daily checks we have been confined to barracks drinking coffee and moaning about the rain.

Yesterday started off bright enough and as I basked in the early sunshine watching the sheep feeding I had hoped to get a lot done.

Tracey's brother Stuart came over, our plan was to find Mr Fox and lie in wait guns ready to eliminate the pesky critter once and for all.

A search of our grounds found a few signs that Foxy likes our garden so much he regularly crosses it. So regularly in fact he has left a trail behind the remains of the rock fall and along the base of the cliff. This means he passes the fox trap with its now rancid bunny offerings and has the good sense not to venture inside. Meantime we are regularly catching collies and beagles who seem to have turned make their owner climb to the base of the cliff to let me out of the cage into a competition. I did see a buzzard in the tree above the trap and I am convinced it got in and helped itself to a free rabbit dinner. There are dozens of birds of prey around Rock HQ including Buzzards, Red Kites and Peregrine Falcons. Any pigeons in these parts are either lost or very fast fliers.

We searched the hill around the cottage and found amongst the bracken a den used by the fox worryingly close to the chicken coup. I had found it a while ago, while I was dragging Meg back to the track in Sheep Rescue 2, a previous post, but I thought the hole was just a large rabbit hole. Stuart pointed out the tell tale marks of fox habitation which included dollops of fox pooh. This has a magical quality and attracts dogs like moths to a flame. They go into raptures when they find a piece and while Stuart and I discussed the merits of sitting around this hole for twelve hours, arcs of fire, where to pitch the tent, the possibility of hikers straying into the killing fields and so on, my beautiful prize winning show stopping Bernese Mountain Dog, Rocky, took the opportunity to make himself utterly irresistible and coated himself in the foul smelling muck. Suitably streaked in excrement he bounded off to share the wonderful smell he had found with the rest of the pack.

As we wandered back along the lane the first signs of bad weather closing in could be seen. Across the valley hills were disappearing into a grey haze as falling rain began to reduce visibility. The Oracle was making his way along a hedge line way below us, he had seen the rain too. He shouted and waved, we did the same. Seeing him so active eliminated him from the likely suspects on the missing old man list the emergency services were looking for last night.

The rain began.

Trapped indoors with a huge jobs list to complete outdoors is not conducive to good humour. So I busied myself reading up on how to keep cows in the ultimate smallholders how to guide produced by John Seymor. The bull pictured above is not the type recommended for a smallholder, its a Belgian Blue, I think. The farmer closest to us has just turned the beast out. It has massive steaks on its backside, you can see them bulging out. They might produce huge amounts of meat but its pretty tasteless. I heard one food critic say it was like chewing your tongue eating one of those steaks. I am going to stick to Dexters who produce exceptional meat and small joints. When I raise the cash.

I also made some blackcurrant jam as this year we beat the birds to the fruit and the first pick gave us enough for four jars of jam. Making jam is so easy, everyone should try it. I just boil in a bit of water whatever fruit I want as jam and then add pound for pound the same amount of sugar as fruit. Boil for ten minutes, allow to cool a bit and pour into hot jars. How easy is that. Last year as jam novices we made 60 jars of jam, mostly from our own raspberries, logan berries, strawberries and plums. The only disaster we had was when I over cooked a blackberry and apple concoction, it turned almost toffee like, and a plum jam which didn't set as I hadn't left any stones in. Reboiled with some stones in a cloth bag it set nicely. So no excuses make some jam!

When the rain eased a bit Stuart and I attempted to get the van started. I had on impulse bought a new battery for it thinking that with a new battery it was bound to start. It might of, had I not left it at the end of the lane uncared for for 8 months. New battery fitted it showed signs of life but when the key was turned nothing happened. Just to spite me the van's immobiliser decided to work and every twenty seconds the alarm went off. How do I know its spite? Well I didn't even know the van had an immobiliser, we drove it twelve months and had never known of its existence. We used the van for all sorts of jobs, including driving to work which caused a great deal of amusement in my staff team that their most senior manager drove a white Toyota van full of straw to work instead of the nice shiney V6MGZT 190 he used to have.

You see smallholding does change you.

Anyway after several hours of pointless fiddling with the vans inner workings Stuart declared the Toyota's condition terminal. As if to emphasize the death of the Toyota it rained harder still. We took shelter in the cottage once again.

It was obvious that sitting out with guns would be a pointless exercise. The downpour was so great even our Ryelands took cover in the sheep shelter for the first time since we built it a year ago. No one in their right mind would be out in that deluge.

So the Fox had a reprieve and we had a beer.