Month: March 2015

Sex… I have your attention……

Gary with his new girls


It’s clearly that time of year when most things outside are feeling frisky. Colonel Sherman T. Potter my Cockerel is at it. The ducks on the lake are at it, but one creature here on the farm who hasn’t been at it is Gary The Gander. I had a Goose and Gander, but she died. At first when she went missing I thought the fox had got her – after all I now only have 5 ducks out of 17, many of whom I found their remains scattered about the field where the lake is. One duck survived an attack, blood stained, living on for two more weeks before she too disappeared never to return. I bought a floating duck house (did think about becoming an MP) but do they use them? Do they heck. Clearly Goosey just died as she didn’t have a mark on her, which left Gary the Gander in despair honking and honking and honking with a broken heart. Or it just could have been sexual frustration. I wanted to get him a couple of girls but this was back in December – a time of year when you can’t tell a Goose from a Gander. So Gary lived on, lonely on the lake through all those long dark winter nights, until yesterday. He is currently residing in a stable with two new girls. From there they will be transferred to their new house in the field and fenced in for a few days so they can get used to being shut in at night. After that, freedom and (hopefully) with the sense to come back to their house for safety at night. That’s the theory, it could work, but knowing my luck they will decide to sleep on the banks of the lake instead, along with the ducks.

Back at the hen house Sherman hasn’t been lonely, but he’s had a difficult time recently. The girls were clearly not interested in him, a couple of them would even attack him if he went too near. So much so that he took to coming out of the hen house first, then dashing round the back to hide. There he would lie in wait for a girl to exit the house. After a while one girl would venture out slowly trying to work out where Sherman had gone to avoid getting shagged. At the right moment he would dash back to the front of the house hoping to grab the girl. This worked for a while until the girls worked out it was just easier to wait inside the house, while he got fed up and went off to sulk.

Meanwhile there are some confused frogs about the place. I have three ponds, two streams and one lake and yet some stupid frogs have laid their frogspawn in a water trough! As the old saying goes ‘none such queer as folk frogs’…


Animals….why do we have them?

I have a cat. I will admit I am not really a cat fan, but when one buys an extremely run down farmhouse with a serious mouse problem one buys a cat. Felix is my Silver/Grey Bengal, purchased from a rescue centre for the grand total of 40 quid. He was eight at the time – in his prime and the ultimate killer of mice. The years may have caught up with him, but every now and then the years roll back and he has a funny five minutes. Sadly last night it was more like five hours.

This morning I feel dreadful – a night of broken sleep which is purely down to my bloody cat.

There is a mouse in the house, where I am not sure, but there is a mouse. During the evening Felix started bombing about downstairs, in and out of the cat flap, through the sitting room, into the study, under the stairs where God knows what went on, into the kitchen and back out of the cat flap. I threw him out twice but he soon came back to continue the same insane dash through the house.

During the night the circuit increased – out of a bedroom window, onto a low roof, onto the old wall, running round the outside of the house and back through cat flap which seemed to get noisier as the night went on. Now the bedroom windows aren’t opened by much, after all it is March, the gap could only have been 5″ but he got through it.
Then down stairs, round the inside of the house, under stairs, back up stairs, out through a window, back through my bedroom window, pausing to smack me on the nose with paw to make sure I am awake then back down stairs.
After a while windows were shut, bedroom door shut and jammed shut with a door stop brought especially for the purpose. Did this stop the bugger? No, but it did limit the circuit. However, instead of going out of the window and cat flap he replaced it with scratching at my bedroom door, jumping up to rattle the door handle and meowing – and boy can Bengals meow loudly.

Monday morning 6.37am and I am typing this, it’s getting lighter, so I will go and do the chickens, goose, ducks and horses. Felix was been thrown out again and cat flap jammed up and I am thinking of going back to bed for an hour or two.