Last night, late, we arrived home from a weeks holiday in Cornwall so, only now, it is safe to mention the feverish activity that preceded our departure for the far south-west. It’s not that we feared cyber initiated incursions during our absence; it is that we do not believe in tempting fate.
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Now we are back I can risk telling you that we were predator-proofing. We struggled in the torrential rain to make the poultry fox-proof and badger-proof before entrusting them to a friend to tend daily. We erected 8 ft high double fences with embedded roof slates buried and wired around the base and heavy scaffolding poles also fixed at the base to discourage tunnelling. Alan vetoed the purchase of electric fencing — God forbid — that is plan ‘B’. Phase Two will encompass the netting roof which will be necessary when we have chicks — to keep out the magpies and buzzards (but I haven’t mentioned this to Alan yet).
The cats had not left home this time and were in-doors waiting for us on our return — the one dubious benefit of heavy rain.
I immediately donned my wellies and went out to shine the repaired torch through the chicken-wire window of the new coop. The chickens were on their perch, one with its head cocked quizzically to one side and a brown egg smashed on the floor beneath her — ‘point of lay’ but still hasn’t got the hang of it quite.
The ducks were also on the floor of the coop, carefully preening the last of the day’s mud from their feathers in a scene that reminded me of our bathroom on a Friday evening when our five children, then teenagers, were still at home.
Outside the coop in the new predator-proof poultry run something strange has occurred — a 25 foot square enclosure of pasture has undergone some sort of cold fusion. There is, it seems, a complication of keeping predators out and it is keeping poultry (especially ducks) in. In one week, two ducks have carefully liquidised the chicken run.
They meticulously probe the soft soil for grubs and wriggly things, repeatedly washing their bills in any standing water they can find — puddly land becomes a morass in no time — they are very conscientious!
This morning, bright and early, I counted the sheep huddled by the fence and found one too many — that’s odd!
There was one stray sheep on the other side of the fence trying very hard to blend in with ours — they do so hate to be alone.
In this wet weather sometimes, in the dips, the tension in the wire fences lifts the fence posts right out of the ground and some of the ewes are quite clever at encouraging this process, particularly if there is nice grass on the other side. This seems to account for our new ewe — she has been returned.