Miracle Grow

Its been a long Good Friday here at HQ, a good mix of fun and hard work spread out from dawn til dusk. Major job completed was the bas of the aviary, obviously we are expecting any finches or chicks to be massively heavy hence the six inch concrete base. This was the fault of the local builders merchant who dropped off six inch shuttering rather than the four inch requested but it was either delay the project further or cut two inches off the ones sent or just get on with it. The latter was chosen and despite having to wheel every barrow load from the runway, up the steep slope of "the lawn" (some of which can be seen in all its lush verdant goodness above) and having run the gauntlet of the assortment of animals who all thought wheelbarrow loads of concrete were worthy of inspection the majority of the mix ended up in more or less the right place and more or less level. Piglets aplenty here, Guinevere is acting funny, or perhaps it was last nights full moon, but she was staring into space and refusing to go to bed, perhaps she is an alien and wanting to phone home, anyway she got a new bed today on the just in case she drops a litter of piglets overnight principle. Iggle is nesting, she is in the berth inbetween Piggle and Morgana so is surrounded by trainee sausage.

Meanwhile Morgana's litter, the pig club recruits, are expanding rapidly. Here's one extremely good looking Berkalitza day one

and here's the same Berkalitza piglet day 12. A right chubster, talking of which Misty the explosive shitland looks a bit on the wide side thanks to Trevor ravishing her some 10 months ago, she should be due around the 28th of this month give or take a week.

The poor girl is feeling the weight

and needs a wide load sign from this angle.

Our turn

I'm sure the critters take it turns to annoy me and today it was the turn of my little ponies. Being Wednesday its feed the Technohermit day, and put the bins out, so Hazel was loaded with sausage and chips and several bin bags and in the freezing cold night we set out to do our good turn and chores. As I turned out of the lane and executed a brilliant 7 point turn to dump the refuse sacks Hazel's headlights picked out a naughty shitland trotting through the open gate crying "Freedom!"

Quite where Trevor thought he was going is another question but he ended up standing, all too briefly, on the worlds biggest patch of ice. I dropped the bin bags and set off after him, soon both of us were scrambling to the edge of the ice sheet trying to be the first to regain our footing. Note to self, court shoes do not make for good grip on sheet ice.

Trevor made it to safety first and ran off towards the Oracles front door, meanwhile Misty ran in the other direction uphill. Me being a bit better at horse psychology than I was set off after Misty who being pregnant was in no mood to keep running and once taken hold of allowed herself to be led back to the periphery of the bonsai mountain where she was sent up the lane with a flea in her ear. I had hoped Trevor would follow.

Trevor had missed this as he was now pretending to eat frozen grass and poised ready to scarper at the sign of a slightest advance in his direction from yours truly. I chose to ignore him and drove Hazel back into the lane and as I went to shut the gate little Johnny big potatoes flounced through the narrowing gap. I left him whinnying for all his worth at the gate calling for Misty who, judging by the way he was facing, he thought was still The Oracles side of the gate. Misty being a brighter pony than Trevor remembered what happens around 8pm so she played the divide and rule card and trotted in front of Hazel back to the yard and tucked in to a supper meant for two.

Almost like Christmas

It must be getting close to Christmas, we never ever see our post person, even though we know Steve the post exists he's seldom seen. He even signs our recorded post for us and bungs it in a steel box half a mile from the cottage. Today as I was dealing with horses we haven't got a red van with a familiar logo appeared. Things have obviously changed our end of the lane as he got out of the van with his jaw scrapping the floor. "I remember this when it was all fields" he wise cracked. Funny man.
"You should be on telly" I countered, but before I could ask where his cat Jess was he thrust a large parcel in my frozen hands. "Didn't want to leave this at the end of the lane, not at this time of year" he winked theatrically. The contents of my pockets were not suitable for tipping hinting posties unless he wanted half a dozen wet roses wrappers (early opening of half price chocs, guilty) some dog biscuit, a ring pull, string, some Aubious (google it, it plays havoc with zoom lenses) a camera that sometimes works and lots of fluff. He stood watching me as I did the universal patting of pockets ritual when you want to tip but cant. I did eventually give him a tip, "Don't run over the pony as you reverse down the lane, you'll only annoy her"

Nine and a half hours

Daylight is at a premium this time of the year, the Technohermit bent my ear over that fact while I dropped off his dinner. The wind was cutting like a knife through the thin woolly pulley I was wearing and I chastised myself for failing to A) put on a coat and B)thinking dropping off dinner to a hermit would ever be a quick and easy job. So as I shivered, he wearing an assortment of animal skins and dirt being toasty warm and windproof, waxed lyrical over how he had calculated that there was 14.5 hours of darkness leaving only 9.5 hours of daylight to get all the jobs done. Presumably jobs included sitting in a cave entrance and waiting for anything edible stupid enough to wander within arms reach. He confidently predicted that by the end of the week there would only be nine hours of daylight left. What did I think of that, well not a lot really, my mind had lost the ability to think and I was seriously concerned that I would be joining the trio of Brass Monkeys sat close by clutching their privates in the vain hope of salvaging something worthwhile.
Finally my audience was over and he retreated into the darkness clutching a foil pack of hot pie, peas and deep fried potato salad aka chips.
I managed to get back to HQ before hypothermia rendered me unconscious and having heard the pontifications about not wasting daylight wondered how the Technohermit would have felt spending one tenth of his daylight hours looking for little Misty. This equine equivalent of a Tasmanian devil was. like Trevor, not where she should be at first light. So I set off to get her from where she shouldn't be and found her not there, Trevor was and he tried to sneak off without being seen but it was too late, busted. So he trotted off to where he should be while I and several Berners searched the Cauldron for the naughty pony.
Search was called off when time ran out and I had to be somewhere else clean and tidy rather than covered in mud. Trevor got his just reward for being a good boy and now being where he should. It was at that point that Misty was found, exactly where she should have been, in her stable waiting for breakfast, and yours truly went to his appointment and then went for an eye test.

The Fellowship of the Ring

The Fellowship of the Ring is broken.

It was a valiant attempt to unseat the King from the throne, but alas, for them, fortune did not favour the brave and their ill timed rebellion was crushed and they all went to bed with no dinner.

It was most likely my fault. Perhaps I should not have laughed when, after much effort on my part, the water started to flow at high velocity along the 20mm water pipe. Had I thought I would have checked to see that there was no shitland pony called Trevor biting the free end hanging over the trough, hoping to catch a dribble of fresh water. I did look up in time to see his cheeks bulge as a million gallons of ice cold water suddenly filled his mouth. Pointing and laughing only sowed deeper the seeds of the later rebellion.

The boys, William, Apollo, Trevor and their sidekick Misty (a girl pony) are in a routine that goes roughly along the lines of wake up, wait for servant to open bedroom door, stretch, wander lazily to the hayledge in the Ring, spend all day eating while servant cleans and tidies bedroom, watch as servant appears just before sunset with buckets of tempting goodies, note carefully the goodies placed in bedrooms, wait impatiently at gate for servant to get a move on and open gate, wander into bedroom, ignore platitudes from servant and get nose down in bucket, have servant shut bedroom door and turn out light, create Himalayan range of horse dung for servant to shift later, lick salt block, snooze and do it again in the morning.

So aside from laughing at Trevor's water boarding mishap I was guilty of complacency. A sin that if committed by smallholders seldom goes unpunished. Putting the ponies to bed is easy. Five minutes max.

Which is why last night I was to be found shivering in the lane in unlaced boots, no torch, wearing a t shirt instead of the arctic gear I had been wearing earlier, because after all, this would only take five minutes I cheerily shouted to my beautiful and oh so patient wife as she reminded me to put my coat on as I set out to put the ponies to bed. The four ponies had gone through the motions of wander towards stables but at a key moment failed to enter and cantered down the lane. Misty who is as fast moving as a comatose Eeyore wandered miserably after her fleeing companions whinnying at being left behind. I followed after grabbing a feed bucket to tempt them with.

By the time I rounded the bend in the lane even Misty the wonder Sloth had disappeared into the night. Somewhere out there were four naughty ponies and 500 acres to play in. The tracks in the snow helped with direction, but each time I got to a point where they might be, the tracks led further away. Every now and then a whinny of temper from Misty prompted me not to give up and get back to the warm of Rock HQ and my coat. The whinny got louder, this one was real fury. The tracks ahead split, three went one way, Misty another, I presumed the whinny was her telling the boys they better make their whereabouts known. I followed Misty's little paw prints, up to the Ghost House, where she stopped and doubled back along the hedge line. As I descended toward The Oracles homestead I wondered how on earth four ponies could hide so well against a snowy bonsai mountain and how much I could sell horse meat for.

Finally I found them milling around like naughty teenagers. William advanced, ears back, your empty bucket trick will not work on us, he was saying, but in horsey, if he could talk we wouldn't worry about paying the mortgage, anyway, bluff was called, what you going to do, there are four of us in the Fellowship of the Ring, we will not be broken.

He was right of course. Me shivering with cold armed with an empty bucket was no match for a naughty Welsh Cob with an eye on the crown. So the next weapon in the armoury was deployed, divide and conquer. Holding Apollo firmly by the forelock words were exchanged along the lines of "For you Tommy the war is over" and with the promise of a full bucket if he behaved Apollo fell in behind and plodded after the true herd leader. Misty sensing she might share Apollo's good fortune dropped in alongside while William and Trevor cantered up and down trying to convince their former allies that all was not lost, they could win.

William continued his defiant stance right until the bolt was kicked over on the other's doors and suddenly the yard was a very large and lonely place. Mustering the dignity of the defeated he entered his stable without an apology while I did my best not to gloat. Fifty three minutes after the start of my five minutes outside I was defrosting on the range which was nearly as warm as the glow of victory.

One small step for man...

Misty about to go over the edge!

Today Is Saturday Watch And Smile

It is such fun living here, really, no matter what happens to the outside world there is always something going on here to raise a smile, and today was a real tiswas day. The two clips of video show a couple of major things that happened. We played lumberjacks bringing down a spindly Ash tree that would eventually pose a bit of a hazard to the smalls, Trevor and Misty, one tree down, two to go. We gave the wood away as a belated Christmas gift to some friends. In return they gave us some marmalade, chutney and some eggs. To find out what happened to the eggs click on the Dolyhir link in the margin, a warning, its not for the squeamish. The tree was chopped up in double quick time, I refused to dress like I was in an audition for The Village People, Steve (another one ) was seemingly quite comfortable dressed this way and once he stopped frightening the ponies all was well.

We had two bales of Haylege delivered, it cost 50% more but at least they got here without any effort on our part, were placed exactly where we wanted them so posed no threat to man or beast and still they were 50% cheaper than feeding the hoofed beasts hay. Speaking of which the grass must be coming through as our Ryelands have started to venture out of the yard which on the the one hand is a good thing as it reduces the trip hazards and mess in the yard, on the other they might get the travel bug again and disappear.

On top of these jobs we got the trailer repaired, Trixie's jockey wheel collapsed after the pig run so a nice new shiny wheel and jack had to be fitted. As Trixie was over the at the Hall of the Stable Sprite we got to see him and his family who were sat quietly discussing the laws of quantum whilst cooperatively making a 5000 piece jigsaw puzzle of The Haywain, we felt bad disturbing their tranquil morning with our idle chatter but they didn't seem to mind.

Nessa and Stacey were less entertaining than the Sprite's clan and can only just be seen in the ark. The only reason you can see them is that they have kicked the back out of the ark, Stable Sprite said he didn't mind having to fix it, it would give him something to do as he was sick of puzzles.

In all a very busy day what with the usual routine, moving the felled tree, putting up the last wire panel on the new chicken run, turning two cockerels into coq au vin ingredients, making appreciative noises while someone else spent an hour of his valuable time sharpening my chainsaw, sawing a pile of wood in the lane, a training session for the BBMT and picking up all the rubbish from the black bin bag the Ryelands had savaged in search of sheep treats. A real tiswas.

Another good one

It has been one of those days at Rock HQ, one of those days where you are glad to be alive. The fresh air, the scenery, the animals make this the most fantastic place to live. Forget the mud, the foxes, the outside world, the jobs list and the weather, today has been just great.

A fresh covering of snow got the day off to a clean start, I tried to trace the fox back to its hidey hole but having five Bernese Mountain Dogs careering back and fourth it was a lost cause but we got to stretch our legs and see some parts of the bonsai mountain from different angles. Trevor and Misty tucked in breakfast and he has turned from a mental my little pony into a cuddly monster, albeit with teeth, but he fussed around Misty, seem like he has learned how to share, with her anyway. It is strange that in just a few weeks time Misty, the one on the right, should give birth to a foal that will be about the size of a hamster. A tiny thing. Needless to say we are very excited at the prospect.

The boys were turned out and they spent most of their time either chewing food or chewing each other. They seem to like their coats and they do keep them clean, that is, the horses stay clean, not the coats. They are covered in pooh and will need washing soon. Have to sneak them down the launderette when no one is looking as our machine is already breaking under the burden of cleaning my clothes which sometimes are so caked in mud they would crack if they dried out. A washing machine repair man came to Rock HQ yesterday as the thing had broken yet again, and yet again he pulled out of the working doings a collection of fencing staples, bent nails, baler twine, half dissolved extra strong mints and dog hair. I promised not to do it again and he promised Tracey he would return in a month to fix it again.

The extreme pruning took place while the snow melted, masses of branches were cut from shrubs with ideas above their station. This was a very therapeutic task and we found paths and steps up the hillside that were long forgotten. I took it on myself to carry on pruning out side the perimeter clearing a stretch of gorse bushes which will either make it harder for the foxes to sneak up on our chickens or make it easier for them to see the hens. Cosmo sat and watched while I hacked and chopped away, I would have cleared more except the jaws of the loppers broke.

This is the view from a standing stone just above our little patch, you can just make out a trail middle to right of picture. This is the route down to the gorse and then to our fence. Easy to see how they get so close without being seen.

In from the cold

Misty checking to see if there is any room by the wood burner

Grubs up!

Trevor the pocket rocket and the love of his life, Misty sharing a bale.

Playground tiff!

Misty and Trevor have been making friends over the fence for weeks so we put them together for the first time. I think its love.

Its been a long week!

It has been a long week here at Rock HQ, one which will be etched into our memory forever. How these four goats managed to survive is a credit to modern medicines, Ambrose who also survived is not in the picture as he is spending his waking hours searching for his twin, Archie who was not so fortunate and moved to celestial pastures the morning entrotoximia was diagnosed.

Juliet, above, is still not quite 100% and seems to be sticking to plain food like twigs, bark and other rough stuff. I can tell the three below are feeling a bit more adventurous, not only because they are foraging for hay but they are also within striking distance of Misty the feisty Shetland who has a temper on her that matches Genghis Khan's.

We've earned it!

Currently we can hardly move. There is enough strength left in my right arm to drink my beer, Tracey is propped up on the sofa with a fanta feeling as tired as I am.

This morning I was Stihl sore, and still sawing, above is just part of what I cut through today. When I was sure I couldn't strike another manly pose with a chainsaw I got on with the rest of our routine which included dragging a bale of hay up to the small horse, Misty, who is getting used to us all. She is so cute, but just like the Pocket Rocket she has heels of steel which the dogs have been on the receiving end of a couple of times.