Sticky wicket

I decided to get some additional syrups and stuff for my cocktail making.  My friend Y is coming over on Friday, and we're going to spend the afternoon making cocktails,  so I placed online orders on Friday.

One of the orders was for some additional Monin syrups.  I already have plain syrup and vanilla syrup, but I wanted to get a few more.  The company I was ordering from was doing a special offer if I bought 6, and it wasn't too difficult to find 6.   I'm not really sure about Monin syrups, but they aren't that expensive, and I', sure the kids will like them on ice creams etc.

Delivery was superfast, arrived today. I signed for it, then picked the box up from the step and turned to go in the house.

I was three steps into the hall when I realised that the bottom of the box was very, very wet, and very, very sticky.  I shouted for the driver not to drive off, and told him that my package was damaged.  Actually the box wasn't damaged at all, but we could all see the dark stain on the bottom and the liquid oozing out.   In the end, we agreed that we would write "damaged" on his electronic delivery thing.

I left the box outside while I attempted to clean the syrup off the hall floor.  Then I got some newspaper, put it under the box, and carried it into the house to the kitchen sink.  By this time, syrup was leaking out all along one side of the box.  I slit open the tape, and found another stout box inside. This was really well packaged, so i was surprised that there was damagage.  I slit that open, and started to remove the bottles one by one.  I rinsed them under the tap as I did so, getting syrup all over the sink in the process.

Bottle number 4, Butterscotch, was shattered. By this time, the syrup was everywhere.   I got a bin liner, and put the entire box-within-a-box in the bin liner.  I picked up the newspaper and stuffed that in, and I took the whole lot out to the dustbin.

Despite my precautions, I had managed to get more syrup all over the floor, all the way from the front door to the kitchen sink.  I mopped again. I cleaned the sink. I realised that I had syrup on my sleeves.   I took my jumper off and put it on the floor of the utility room (next to the washing machine, not just for the hell of it).  I sat down to phone the company and, while I was on the phone, I realised that I had syrup on my jeans.

Who knew that the stuff could be so pervasive?

The house smells of sickly butterscotch mixed with vinegar (I used vinegar solution to mop up with).

Thank goodness it isn't hot, or I'd be besieged by ants and flies.

Roll on Friday.

 

Pickled

Not the cocktail sort. It's been about a week since I last made a cocktail.

We've been meaning to make pickled eggs for a while now.  Trouble is that fresh eggs don't make good hard boiled eggs, the whites don't solidify properly.  We haven't had enough older eggs to make it worthwhile. 

DH bought a dozen eggs home from the allotment yesterday. Some of them were a week old, and I had a few on my Egg Skelter which were as old or older.  In the end I managed to get together 11 eggs to try.

I have two recipes. One is for pickling quails eggs and, whilst it tells me I need 48 Qualis eggs and 700ml white wine or cider vinegar,  it doesn't tell me what sized jars to use.  The other is for pickling hens eggs, and tells me how much vinegar I need per 6 eggs.

So, I estimate that I can fit 6 eggs into a 500ml Le Parfait jar. I could probably fit in more, but I want to allow room to cover and room around.   I decided to make two lots of pickling vinegar, with the same additives in both but one with a base of white wine vinegar and one with a base of cider vinegar.  That way we can decide what vinegar we prefer, and then we can experiment with the additives in future batches. Of course I didn't have quite the right amount of vinegar, so I've had to adapt the recipe.   I've made notes though and, if it's a success, I'll post it.

So.  The vinegar mixes have been boiled and are cooling and steeping.  The eggs have been hard boiled, plunged into cold water immediately, then cooled rapidly in running water  and the shells cracked - this is to prevent that horrible black ring appearing around the yolk.

And now I'm waiting for the vinegar to steep and cool so I can pot up.  And then I have to wait 6 weeks.

The house smells of vinegar.

 

Not going out

Not today, thank you.

She wouldn't go out until she'd had her mealworms, which was fair enough.  Then she wanted yoghurt (and yes, I do know this for a fact. She started scraping herbeak inside her empty yoghurt cup).  And then she wanted a fresh bit of Garvo.

When she'd finally run out of delays, I picked her up and stood her by the open back door. She stood with her beak outside, doing nothing.  I unpacked the shopping, which had helpfully arrived early, while I was in the shower.

When the shopping was away, I tried to encourage Tilda to jump outside. She did her surprisingly nimble shimmy, and wedged herself underneath one of the breakfast bar stools.

I'll take that as a no then. Well, I'll take it as a "not just now, thank you".

Risking it

Tilda wasn't sure about going out this morning. She hesitated on the step, presumably trying to make up her mind. It was raining a bit, and she had lots to do.  In truth, it wasn't raining much, and I needed to clean out her pen, so I made the decision for her.

She started off by sitting next to the Girls, albeit on this side of the netting.  The Girls drifted off and drifted back, As the  morning wore on they travelled a bit round their area, and Tilda followed them along the fence line.  By lunchtime, she was sitting by the gate.

Reluctantly, I put her in with the Girls, and she made a dash for the run.  Custard started after her, so I intervened and shut the run door with Tilda inside and everyone else outside.   I got on with some housewifely stuff, and came out half an hour later to let Tilda out.  The Girls crowded round, naturally associating my arrival with something tasty.  I couldn't leave Tilda in there, so I put her back outside the fence.

After another half hour of housewifely stuff, I looked out to see Tilda standing with her bbeak pointing in to the gate.  I walked outside, not looking at the Girls, trying to look as though I was walking elsewhere in the garden. At the last moment I veered in, scooped Tilda up and popped her over the fence.   She ambled off into the Run again.

I left her outside, trying to keep an eye on her.   She appeared under the Pampas at one point, standing right next to everyone else.  Everyone was together, which was unusual - even without Tilda, it's unusual to have all of them sitting quietly together.  That lasted until the scaffolders arrived to remove the scaffolding.    The others disappeared to the Run, leaving Tilda under the Pampas on her own.

Time for her to come in, I think.

Beak out of joint

I've been spoiling Tilda a bit with the Mealworms.  She has them for breakfast and she has them for dinner. Every day.  (She also has layers pellets, garvo, oystershell & grit, natural yoghurt, and cucumber).   

Occasionally, the Grden Girls get mealworms, the odd treat.  Once a week, sometimes twice, the Allotment crowd get mealworms as a treat. 

I buy 1kg of mealworms from Wiggly Wigglers, divide them up into my 3 differently-sized and superduper bait boxes.  The largest box goes in the salad drawer. The other two sit on different shelves in the fridge.  Evry few days, I take the boxes out of the fridge, add some grated carrot, and leave them out for a couple of hours so that the mealworms can come out of hibernation and have smething to eat.  Then they go back in the fridge.

This week Tilda has been outside a few times, sometimes for a whole day at a time.  She doesn't do anything while she's out there, but she looks fairly content.   Her tail and head are good barometers of how she is feeling.

This morning she was enthusiasticaly helping me get the mealworms out on to the floor for breakfast, and we accidentally ended up with a slightly larger heap than intended.   To my surprise Tilda didn't eat them all.

My mealworm phobia has almost completely evaporated, so the sight of a small pile of mealworms didn't worry me too much.  A frew minutes later and the sight of mealworms travelling away from the pile  in different directions did bother me a bit.   My Great Niece is coming, and she might be a bit distressed.

Tilda was having a post-breakfast doze, and wasn't interested in helping me clear them up.  So, I went outside, held out my arm, and brought in a very happy Poppy.  I put her on the floor and she hoovered up the escapees with gusto.  Tilda was most upset.  She did a sort of chickeny growl.  She came out of her pen to defend her mealworms.   This was not a good move as Poppy, oblivious to the tension, saw an empty pen and lots of interesting coop cups.   Fortunately I saw her heading in there and stopped her.

Tilda got back into her pen and started eating her Garvo very loudly.  There was a lot of burbling, presumably she was muttering under her breath as she stabbed into the food.

At last!

Our system was commissioned yesterday (Wednesday), and we had the joy of watching the meter dial going backwards.

I knew this might happen, someone had mentioned it on a solar PV discussion board. And there is a question about it on the Tariff form.

It's dull and overcast today, so we're only generating enough to run half an old fashioned lighbulb...or a couple of low energy ones.  

I'm seeing my Aunt J and my Great Niece T this morning.  Cakes might be called for I think.

Last Week - three days ago.

After much investigation, which included a lot of pulling out of furniture, socket testing, and  emptying a particularly full bookcase to get behind it,  the problem was isolated.
The Vphase thingummy was hooked up with no issues.

We couldn't get the solar PV commissioned until Wednesday, as we had a long standing date with two of the Grandchildren, and we hadn't seen them for some months.

The furniture was put back. The bookcase decluttered and refilled.  

Still no satellite signal due to the scaffolding, and Sky Go does not have all the channels.  I couldn't face watching Game of Thrones live,  the short segments and frequent adverts really spoil the programme for me,  so we prefer to record it and the FF through the ads.  And who knew that it meant we wouldn't be able to watch stuff we had recorded?! How rubbish is that, Sky?

Luckily Sky repeats things, so we can watch GoT later in the week.

Last week - Thursday..

I started to write this post when work on the solar installation started...

I know it is only for  couple of days. I know  it will be worth it when it's done.  I know it can't be helped, omelettes/eggs, that sort of thing.  But I still find it wearing.

It wasn't too bad yesterday.  It's not really that bad today, except that today we have no electricity.  It's too cold to go and do something outside.  I've already been out and cleaned out the chooks,  cleaned and redone their waterers etc. 

I've decluttered a wardrobe.  I've sorted out stuff for the charity shop.  It's not worth cleaning.  I'm unable to settle with a book.   I'm stuck at home at least until DH gets back from doing the allotment chickens.

The scaffolding means that we don't get satellite, and the satellite isn't recording.  Sky Go means that we can watch some programmes live (without live pause or fast forwarding through the adverts,  reminded me why we record everything and start watching it 15 mins late).  Except Sky Go is only a subset of sky channels. No Castle!

I haven't felt this trapped for ages!

I didn't post it because I realised I was being a bit pathetic.   So, why have I posted it now?

Well.  The solar PV installation went swimmingly, despite the freezing temperatures. The guys were great, very neat and tidy.  

We had decided to have a voltage regulator thingummy installed at the same time.  Most of the installation went well, but it did uncover a problem somewhere in the house with the wiring. 

Long/short: delay in commissioning the solar PV

Over exertion

One set of grandchildren live about an hour and a half away.  Not too far, but far enough that we don't get to see them as often as we should like, and should.  Day to day life for us and for their parents just gets in the way.

It was their birthdays recently, and DIL2 (their mum) suggested we might like to take them out somewhere for the day.    I had the bright idea of taking them to Go Ape,  as a new junior course had opened up about an hour from them.

So. Up early this morning so the chooks could have a run around before we left.  Chooks away, along with several peckablocks,  a couple  of cauliflowers which were quartered and hung with string from places in their run, a quartered lettuce, a squash, a swede, and some tomatoes.  I think the lettuce and tomatoes were eaten before I'd even got back into the house.

Hour and a half there, no real holdups, so that was better than expected. Cup of tea, chat, then we left. Hour ish to Go Ape.   Couple of times round that (once round it in my case. Not my thing at all, heaven knows why I thought it would be a good idea).  Then off to nearby castle to have lunch, which involved a very long walk to get there.  Negotiations about lunch, which I'm not used to, and attempts at manipulation, which I am.   Questions about "WHat would mummy say if you asked her?" were very helpful. And the Girls were accidentally very amusing.   

After lunch, they wanted some sweets. Fair enough, they'd been good, hadn't played up at all, hadn't asked for anything silly.   I gave them a £5 note to go and buy a tub of sweets (for £2.10).   A few minutes later, one came back just to check whether I had meant one tub to share, or one tub each, as there was enough money for one each.    "One to share". The disappointed messenger went back into the shop.    A long time passed, and they eventually came back with a tub.   They then earnestly explained that GD1 had wanted x and GD2 had wanted y and they couldn't fund a tub with both in, so they bought a tub of z instead.  I pointed out that this meant that neither of them got what they really wanted,  and they agreed, explaining that this way it was fair.  I kept a straight face, and pocketed the change.

A play in the fort (children, not us) followed, by which time it was starting to get very cold.   We had a"ferry" ride across the lake followed by a train ride back to the Gift Shop.   DIL2's mum had given them money to spend, and they were determined to spend it.  They failed, only spending about half of the money available despite trying very hard not to listen to my "you don't have to spend it today, you can save it for something when you get home" speech.

Hour drive back to their house, and then we had to leave immediately to try and avoid the traffic.  Bit more than an hour and a half home, but again we were really lucky.

I'm now shattered.  I'm getting old.

Make hay

Sunny today...and warm!   Three loads of washing done and hanging outside!.

I've also raked most of the Girls' free range area, it looks much better now.  I'm wondering whether to water the grass.  We've got lots of water in the water butts and the water tank. The grass needs it,  but if temperatures drop then I might do more harm than good.

Hmm. 

Back home

My nerves might not have survived Tilda's adventure, but Tilda did.

I've been in and out like the proverbial fiddlers elbow,  checking that she is safe and unmolested.  She moved hiding places numerous times. At one point she was actually standing, unprotected and unhidden, close to the others. 

She's just come in, and I've checked her over for wounds. None, today.   That has to be the first time for a long time.

Adventuring is obviously hungry work, she's tucking in to a heap of mealworms as I type.

Will be interesting to see what tomorrow brings. Forecast isn't great, so today's little sojourn might be a one-off.

Kamikaze Chicken

Tilda has resisted going outside for several days now.  I don't blame her, it's been bitterly cold and we even had snowon Wednesday.

This morning she did her now regular routine of running round and through my legs when I tried to suggest she went out.   I left her in the kitchen while I went out to see the Allotment chooks.  

When I came back the weather was a bit warmer, so I picked Tilda up and put her outside.  I gave everyone, Tilda included, some pasta.  Tilda wandered along and sat next to the Garden Girls, albeit on the other side of the netting.    A bit later, she was at the gate, pointing determindly inwards.  I tried to dissuade her, but she resisted. So, I opened the gate and she ran in to the Girls free range area.  She headed straight for a shrub, but was intercepted by Custard.  Tilda ran off and sat under some spikey shrub,

I stood outside for some time, until the 6 Garden Girls got bored and wandered off.  I've been sitting in the kitchen working, whilst making sure that I can see all 6 of them (so no one is anyone near Tilda).

I'm not sure this is going to end well.

Bring me sunshine

About 5 years ago, DH installed a solar water heating system for us.  A plumber friend helped to connect it all up, but DH did the rest himself.  It's been fantastic,  a huge saving overall, and we encouraged our friends (especially those doing renovations) to think about doing this.

We wanted to do solar PV at the same time, but could not justify the cost of getting it installed. Self installation was a possibility, but still expensive, and we wouldn't get the grid tie in.

DH played around with some smaller 80w panels.   This worked OK, but wasn't particularly efficient.   We kept putting off the decision to go ahead with full solar PV.  Installation was too expensive, and the thechnology was still improving.

Two years ago we decided we would do it.  Component prices were coming down, electricity prices were going up.  DH was busy working, and couldn't free up the time needed to do it.

This year, we decided to bite the bullet and get it in installed by someone else.  When we got the three quotes we were surprised to see that the total cost, including fitting, was less than the component costs had been just a couple of years ago.  (In fact the total cost  was only about 2.5 times as much as our original test 80w panels cost!).   

It was difficult  deciding which of the dozens and dozens of fairly local installers to get to come and quote.   We looked at the websites of the first 30 or so, and got a long list of about 12, and we then got this down to 3.

All 3 were great.  They were all different.  It was tough to choose.  We dropped one because he was so busy, we could see that it would be some time before we could get done. He was a lovely chap.

In the end,  the decision was almost made for us.  One of the two had provided a comparative quotations for a single inverter and for micro inverters.    We researched micro inverters in more detail and decided that's what we wanted.  We asked the other chap about them, and he wasn't keen on them.  Fair enough, lots of people don't like them.    We talked about it, did a bit more research, and concluded that we definitely wanted to go with micro inverters.  So we went ahead with the chap who had quoted for them.

Installation is this week!

Tilda reaches the hallway

Tilda, our house chicken, doesn't move around very much. She likes to come out of her pen,  wander around part of the kitchen, then sit on the floor for a while.  Sometimes she sits under the bar stools. More often than not, she likes to sit in walkways, or in front of the fridge.

During the course of the day, assuming she's rejected my attempt to get her to go outside and play, she gradually moves into the main part of the kitchen.  She then sits in front of the dishwasher, the sink, the pan drawer.  Sometimes she sits right in the middle of the floor, like a booby trap.     She's a gingery coloured chicken, and our floor is brown and ginger, so she camouflages well.

She sits, watching us.  Her tail is up, she burbles away.    Sometimes she reminds me of  Doctor Who's Weeping Angels. If you take your eye off her she moves. Just a bit.  At least you're sure she must have moved, because 5 minutes ago she'd been sitting in front of the part of the kitchen where the coffee machine is sited, and now she's in front of the cooker.

Over the last few days, her travels have taken her in a very large L shape, and she has reached the cat food bowls.  She hasn't attempted to eat the cat food, but she has had some fun sitting in front of the bowls. The cats, not surprisingly, aren't too happy about this.

This morning she reached the cat food bowls by about noon, something of a record.   I was sitting using my laptop in the living room. The kitchen door, with the cat food bowls, is right behind me.  Tilda sat there, watching me.    I wondered whether she might try and come into the living room.  I;m not too keen on that really, but we have a solid floor in here as well, and I guess it won't be much of a hardship adding that to my daily disinfect.

She didn't come into the living room.  One minute she was settled, watching me.  The next minute I head DH in the hallway saying "Hello Chicken, you've decided to come in here have you?".

The hallway, too, has a solid floor.  And she won't be able to get up the stairs.  She might manage to hide herself amongst the bikes underneath the stairs I suppose.

At the moment she is staring at the door stop.

She posed for the camera, and waited while I went to get a fresh battery,

Mistake

The weather has been so cold that the grass isn't really growing.  We moved the Girls off the pampas area a while ago, and the grass hasn't recovered.  Meanwhile, the grass patch in front of their run, where the fence now is, has been "wrecked". 

Yesterday I was looking at this out of the bedroom window, and decided that I'd move the Girls back on to the Pampas until the weather gets warm enough for the grass to start regenerating.   So, I went out and started to move the netting. Tilda was under the Pampas, minding her own business.

The Girls, of course, escaped all over the garden. I left them to it.  With the others on the loose,  I did go and get Tilda. I popped her in the run so she could have a dustbath without the others gathering outside.  As it happens, she just sat in the dustbath and made no attempt to bathe.

It took a while to move everything.   I then got a lawn rake, and raked up the bits of dead garden and chicken poo,  and this made everything look better.   Custard got very excited and decided she just had to excavate the big shoe thing I was raking into.

When I was ready for the Girls to come back into the netted area, I got some mealworms to tempt them with.   They came running from all corners.   I popped some mealworms in the Run with Tilda, and Roobarb slipped in as well.  I went to shoo Roobarb out, and then decided against it.  I've rarely seen Roobarb peck anyone, and I thought Tilda might like her company.

Outside the Run, I put the lid back on the mealworms,  put it down, and then turned back.   Tilda was lying on her side in the dustbath, trying to bury her head.  

I was so shocked.

I sprang into action, rescued her, and took her back to the house.  I couldn't see any signs of damage, but she did panic when I went near one side of her head.  I offered her mealworms - she ignoed them. Grapes.  Cucumber. She ignored it all.  

I gave her a couple of drops of Nutridrops.    Over the next hour she recovered,  and by the evening she was chatting away to us as if nothing had happened, and was tucking in to her peckablock.  She even managed some mealworms.

This morning she's fine. I've put her outside the back door so she can sit in the sun. She can also get down the side of the house which is sheltered. Fortunately, she doesn't tend to wander very far, so we don't really have to net her in. 

So. I learned a lesson yesterday.   I wasn't wrong to let Roobarb stay in with Tilda (although I won't do that again, of course); my mistake was not standing and watching to make sure nothing untoward happened.

yes, you must

The Girls seem to have decided to be extra vocal in voicing their disgust/outrage at being kept shut in the coop. This moring it started at 6am.  It didn't stop, so I got up to go and see what was happening. I had noticed some small scabs on Lotti's comb yesterday, and I was concerned that she was being bullied to death.

Of course the moment the Girls heard me open the back door, there was silence.

I went out anyway, and whipped open the nest box to see what was going on.   The Girls were queueing to get out.  Lotti broke ranks and rushed towards me.  I checked her comb (no additional problems) and shut the door. I went back to bed.    The noise started again after a few minutes.

It was quite light inside the cube.  Whilst trying to drift back off to sleep, I tried to work out how I could put some blackout fabric over the cube without blocking the ventilation.   I didn't come up with an answer, but I did remember that I had an old blackout roller blind somewhere, and I might try and do something.

....

After breakfast,  I went through the usual routine with Tilda.  I opened the back door, and shuffled her towards it so she could stick her beak outside to see what it was like.   It wasn't as cold as it has been and, although still cold, the sun was trying to make an appearance.   Tilda tried to get round my legs to go back into the kitchen.    

She's been in the house without going out at all for the last 2 days.  With slightly less horrible weather, I was determined that today she would go out, even if it was only for an hour.

We had a bit of a leg wrestle,  and evetualy she gave in and hopped down on to the paving.  I scooped her up and put her in the Pampas, so she could settle down and keep warm.

She looks happy enough.

Joseph Collins

I very rarely drink - well, apart from a single glass of wine with some meals - and so I'm finding practising my newly learned cocktail making skills a bit of a challenge in itself.

On Sunday I made a gin based Tom Collins,  but it wasn't great.  I don't like gin, so it was off to a rocky start anyway. For clarification, that's not quite as stupid a statement as it perhaps sounds.  I've managed to drink Plymouth gin with only a small amount of complaining... I was hoping that making it into a proper cocktail following a proper recipe, might make it more palateable.

I didn't drink much of it,  I didn't have any syrup left (I'd used cordial as a substitute), and so I wasn't able to try another version until today.  Today I made a Joseph Collins, which uses Vodka.  I followed the base recipe,  as I wanted to see if I liked the basic drink before I started trying variations thereof.

It was quite acceptable.  However,  I drink the hard stuff so rarely that I don't think I'll be ready to try a new variation for another couple of days.  

Did I imagine Tilda's disapproving looks?

My Aunt

My Aunt, who is in her seventies, has decided it's time for her to get on the escalator of the technical revolution.

A couple of weeks ago she took delivery of an Ipad and learned how to use it.  She's used it (when at my house) to change her energy suppliers, she's signed up for broadband, and she's mastered a number of games downloaded to keep her going while waiting for Broadband to be connected.

In the last few days, since she her broadband was activated, she's  learned how to email and surf.   She's checked out some furniture she was interested in, found some recipes she wanted,  and found some clothes in M&S that she wanted to order.   Today,  she's learned how to use Facebook and Skype.   I'm not a fan of Facebook, so I've got her started and her daughter-in-law will help her more on this

We've got a few more things on the list to do, we're tackling things one step at a time.

I'm really proud of her.

Mixing it up

The One Day Introduction to Cocktails Masterclass was even better than I expected.

The course didn't start til 11, the Shaker Bar School opens at 10.45, and they warn that no food is provided.  So, we arrived early and had breakfast in the nearby Speedy's Cafe.   Thanks to Google Maps, I'd not ony been abe to view cafes in the area but, thanks to StreetView, I'd actually been able to look at it (and the surrounding area) "for real" to see if it was a salubrious sort of place.  Actually, it had lots of positive reviews as well.

It was great.  An "old fashioned" cafe serving good food, freshly prepared, in good portions and reasonable prices. Tea in a mug. Excellent service from happy staff.

Suitably fortified, we marched on through the snow.  Again, thanks to StreetView, I knew what we were looking for at the end, and I knew that we had to walk through an alley way to get there.

We arrived at the Shaker Bar School, and there were 11 (should have been 13, but two failed to attend) of us.   After a brief introduction of our two trainers and ourselves, we got stuck in. The format was that the trainer demonstrates a cocktail and talks about it,  then in our pairs one of us makes a version, then the other one makes a version.   This means that everyone gets to make every drink, and try every drink.

1. Collins
First up, we learned how to make Collins type drinks.  The trainer demonstrated a Tom Collins, and explained that in order to be a Collins, you must use lemon and you must use soda.  The alcohol and the syrup could be adapted to make variations.    A Tom Collins is gin (not my favourite drink);  he used Bombay Sapphire, which was OK but still not great for me.    Yvonne made a Joseph Collins, with Vodka,  and decided to use a Vanilla syrup.    Good start!

I made a Joseph but used Elderflower syrup... not good.  I think my home made Elderflower, or my Bottlegreen Elderflower, would work better.  We discussed with the trainer other options and flavours.  We wondered if coffee liqueur might work,  and he advised that this would be OK with Joseph but not with Tom.   We also asked about using Bottlegreen-type cordials, and he suggested using something like Hendricks gin.... I think Plymouth might work (for me), as I can just about drink the Plymouth style, I really don't like the London style.

Conclusion: Collins: Definitely on my list of drinks to make at home

2. Mules
Next up was Mules. A demo and an explanation of how the drink was created.  The learning here was that the type of ginger beer determines what other ingredients you put in.  If using a fiery giger beer then omit the syrup.     The trainer made it first without Bitters, and then added them so we could se the diifference.  I found that the Angostura Bitters gave a sort of cola-bottle taste to this drink.
Our turns.  Yvonne made a Tennesee Mule using Jack Daniels.   This was surprisingly good, without bitters,  but adding bitters made it taste like whisky with ginger.

I tried a Cuban Mule with Rum.  For me, this was not a success, with or without bitters.

Conclusion: Mule: Hmm, probably won't rush to make this again

3. Sours
The third drink type we learned was Sours.  I hadn't expected to like this at all, as I don't particularly like Sour taste.   I learned that Sours aren't necessarily sour.   And this drink uses egg white.  As a chicken owner and custard maker, I'm always looking for ways of using leftover egg whites.

This was a bit more involved process as we needed to get the egg white frothed.   We also learned that there are more types of Bitters than just Angostura.     We made Disoronno sours. Our neighbour made a fab chocolatey one using 3/4 Chocolate Liqueur and 1/4 Disoronno, and using chocolate bitters.

This one you had to start with 1 ice cube, rocking the shaker to mix the egg white. Then a bit of gentle shaking to froth the egg white. Once the ice cuvbe had melted,  we filled the shaker with ice and shook properly.   A bit of swirling before pouring to get all the froth out, and then poured over ice.  The drink takes a few moments to settle, like guinness, and for this reason the bartender used half pint tankards to serve.   It was perfumed with lemon.

Another success.  And I learned that I could tolerate Disoronno

Counclusion: Sours: Definitely on my list of drinks to make.

At this point we had half an hour for lunch.  We'd bought sandwiches from Speedy's, and we walked back there to get a takeaway coffee.
4. Daiquiris
After lunch we started with Daiquiris.  With these, you can use sugar or substitute syrup. This is a doubel strained drink.  We tried Vanilla and Lavender.  The Vanilla was ok, not great. The Lavender was horrible - but I think home made Lavender syrup might work better than the synthetic Monin syrups we were using.

Conclusion: Daiquiris: Probably not.

5. Margaritas
Learning here was to use a good Tequila, made from 100% blue Agave.  We learned about prepping the glass before shaking the cocktail.   The variations here were the spirits used to complement the Tequila.  We tried three,  and I didn't really like any of them. I don't think I'm a Tequila girl.

Conclusion: Margaritas: Not for me, thanks.

6. Cosmopolitan
Variations here were the type of citrus vodkas that could be used.  Failed miserably on firing the orange peel.

Conclusion: Cosmopolitan: There are better drinks (for me) to concentrate on.

7. Mojito
Our final drink, and what a great one to end on.   Lots of tips on doing this well - how to gently crush the mint leaves,  not to chop them up when muddling, how to churn the drink.   Really refreshing, and I look forward to trying it with alternatives to Rum.


Conclusion: Mojito : Definitely do this one

Before we left, the trainers showed us how to make Martinis.   Too much alcohol in a martini for me, so I'll probably leave that off my list for now.


And along the way we learned loads of tips:
how to test a drink - using a straw to pull some drink out to try (although some of our drinks didn't taste so good like this, but were more acceptable when drinking from the glass).
More alcohol doean't make a better cocktail
Get the proportion of lemon/lime and sugar absolutely right, don't skimp/overdo either
More ice stays icier longer
Clean as you go

And more that I've probably forgotten for the moment.

The accompanying boooklet is great. It covers, with photos, all the basics that we didn't specifically go through (but were covered as part of making each cocktail).

All I need now is space to create my own cocktail bar.

Bless their little cotton socks

DH picked me up from the railway station this evening.  I'd been on a one day cocktail making course, and thought it best if my friend, Yvonne, and I were collected. Just in case we were suffering any ill effects.

We'd missed one train, and had arrived at another platform right at the other side of  the station to get the next train only to find the doors shut and the train about to depart,  and so was about half an hour later than expected.   He'd shut the Girls in before he left, but he hadn't had time to separate out the two bullies into their own run.... he hadn't expected to be back to late.

When we got home I went straight outside to move them.   Because we are shutting the pop hole at night to muffle the morning noises, and because tomorrow is Sunday, and because I couldn't risk the two Littlees being shut in with the bullies,  I couldn't risk leaving them all together.

When I got outside, I found that the two bullies had taken themselves off to their own coop anyway.

Bless 'em.  

Yep. For the first time in a long time, I thought "Awwww... aren't they sweet".

Mix up

Cocktail Masterclass in London today. 

Wonder if the trains will be running properly?

Squeamish

Like many girls/women, I am a squeamish when it comes to slimy/wriggly creatures.

I've fed maggots (from a bait box) to a chicken suffering from a blocked crop.... but my hand shook the whole time, and I felt nauseous as I watched the seething mass.

I realise that my fear is entirely irrational, but fear is fear - and even irrational fear can't just be stopped.

With Tilda "on her last legs", some time ago I decided to buy some live mealworms for her final couple of days.  Looking at the mail order prices at Wiggly Wigglers, the 1kg option seemed the best value.   I wasn't quite sure how many mealworms would be in 1kg, but I realised that I would need something to contain them in the fridge.

I did some research and bought some superduper bait boxes.  They were a bit like Lock n Lock, with four separate locks, but for bait.   I ordered three different sized boxes: I might be squeamish about slimy wriggly things, but I don't want them to suffer unnecessarily.

The boxes arrived.  The mealworms arrived.  I was surprised that they arrived in 2 x 500g brown bags,  each bag containing egg cartons to stop the poor things gettng squashed.  I opened one of the bags, and heaved.  I was a complete girly as I tried to empty them in to the boxes.   There may have been a lot of irritating girly squealing. 

Some escaped.  I had to find Tilda, pick her up and carry her to the escapees so she could remove them.

I gave some to Tilda from the tub.  I tried to give some to the rest of the garden gang, but they upset the pot and ended up with rather more in one go than I bargained for.  I recoiled every time I found an escapee worm on the kitchen floor.

This carried on in a similar vein for some time, meaning that my first 1kg of mealworms did not last very long.  I ordered some more, and this time I was prepared for what would arrive.

This time I put some of the egg carton in the tubs. I put CSI gloves on, and managed to get the escapees out of the corners of the bags, off the floor, etc, into the tubs.    When I fed the girls this time, I decanted a small amount of worms into a small tub,  and then shook the tub onto the ground.  If the girls managed to knock my arm, I only lost a small number of wormies in the process.

This delivery lasted a little while.  After a couple of days I was concerned for the welfare of the worms.  I did some research, and ended up putting crushed weetabix and grated carrot in the tubs.  I progressed to bringing thetubs out of the fridge every couple of days, letting the worms come out of hibernation to eat, and then putting them back in the fridge.

I realised that my fear was stupid, but I just couldn't help myself.  I did get cross with myself for being such a girly, and one day I made myself pick up some worms with my fingertips, tossing them into the Garden Girls.    They weren't actually slimy at all.  

I made myself do that each time.  I made myself put some worms in the palm of  my hand for the Girls to peck at.  I did the same at the allotment.

By the time the third delivery arrived,  I was not wincing at all as I emptied them into their newly cleaned tubs.  I swept the escapees off the worktop with my hand.  I picked up individual houdinis.  I didn't recoil when I found the odd worm in the odd place.   I kept a carrot in the fridge especially for the wormies.

And so, I'm cured.

But it's a very specific cure.  Mealworms are manageable.  Maggots.... not sure about the!

  

The future of paper

This was posted on a forum I frequent.... it made me burst out laughing.

Hope you like it...
Link to Future of Paper video

Not today, thank you.

Tilda had a sojourn outside yesterday.  She spent a bit of time in the run of the Green Cube - it was raining, and the others were using the main run;  and then a bit of time in the Pampas, a rare treat for her.

This morning after her now-usual breakfast of mealworms and yoghurt, I opened the back door and shuffled her towards it.   We got to the threshold, she poked her beak outside, whipped round behind my legs, and then skippered* back into her pen.  (*Skippered = a cross between skipping and lumbering)

The number of coop cups is increasing.  She now has one for water, one for pellets, one for Garvo AlfaMix, one for oyster shell and grit, one for yoghurt and one for treats like cucumber.  And she has her peckablock.

The pen door is always open, so she can come and go as she pleases. She often sits under the breakfast bar stools.

I guess I can see why going outside is not the most attractive option.

Spring fever

Aaaaaargh!

The Girls are driving me mad!

Spring has sprung, and they are obviously al overflowing with hormones.  Sadly for me (and for my neighbours) this manifests itself in long and loud outbursts of frustrated clucking or whingeing.

This morning the cacophony was ridiculous.  At first, they seemed to be complaining that the Pampas was now out of bounds.  I don't want them to associate cacophony with getting attention, so I ignored it for as long as my nerves would stand.

Then I went out and gave them a bit extra of another area, and they were quiet for a few minutes.

Then we had three of them crowing. It was as though someone had laid an egg, and all three wanted the credit.   I went to have a look and I could see Milly (the Bully) sitting on the nest box, and Lotti hovering by the door.  We have three nest boxes, but I can inderstand that Lotti doesn't want (or isn't allowed) to go in when Milly is on the throne.  I checked under Milly and couldn't find an egg, so I assumed she was laying. She does do so occasionally.

Not much later, the same thing.  I went to the nest box and Milly was still there.   I found a smashed egg underneath her, and I caught her eating the contents.  Now, Milly's egg shells are always paper thin, so I can believe that the breakage was accidental. Her rare eggs are often, but not always, broken.   I popped Milly out on to the ground, and hoiked the eggy mess of Aubiose out from the nest box. Lotti came straight in and sat down.

The rest of the gand appeared at my feet.  Roobarb was whingeing incessantly.  I asked her to stop (like that ever works), and I threatened to catch her. Milly appeared and started to complain loudly.  Florence started to burble.   Poppy flew up and tried to land on my arm, which was down at the time,  and only a quick movement from me saved her from embarrassement. EVen Custard started squealing.

I tried shushing. They shut up for a split second, before resuming.  I put Poppy back down, caught Milly and told her to shut up; I tried, unsuccessfully,  to catch Roobarb.

I could feel myself getting a teeny weeny bit cross with them, soI came back in to the house.  Silence for about twenty seconds, then  Lotti was announcing her egg.  Then Milly joined in.

For goodness sake.

Raining

It's still raining.  The grass in the Girls' free range area isn't recovering, whilst the grass in the other areas has gone beserk and needs cutting - it's too long to risk letting the Girls on to it.  The area at the back was reseeded a month ago, and is not yet ready to have chooks on it.  The "lawn" is reserved for this year's chicks,  no other hens are allowed on it.

Something had to be done though.  So, after I put them to bed this evening, I moved the fencing around.  I'm going to rest the Pampas grass and the grass around it for a couple of days. In the meantime, I've opened up the area previously reserved for Tilda, which has suitable shelter shrubbery in it.    Tilda hasn't been out very much in the last few days - her choice, not mine - and I'm running out of options.  Hopefully the grass in the usual area will perk up after a couple of days rest, and the Girls can go back on there.

Custard and Milly are continuing to behave well. They do not resist when I pick them up to put them in the other run for the evening,  and often go in themselves with a bit of encouragement from me.  They aren't particularly chasing Poppy and Lotti when they are all out together, so that's progress.

I can't risk letting them sleep in the main cube again at the moment.  Poppy and Lotti are so noisy in the mornings (and get the others wound up so they start too) that we're having to shut the pop hole at night to try and stifle the noise a bit.    If letting Milly and Custard into the main cube with the pop hole open is a bad idea,  you can imagine why I can't risk letting them in if the pop hole is shut.

Not sure how we're going to resolve this one. If we were going into winter then the dark mornings would solve the noise problem.... but we're going the other way.

Hard Luck

About 6 or so years ago we had a water softener fitted.

We live in an area of very hard water, and it seemed like a good idea.   Of course we only ever appreciate just how much  of a good idea when the water softener stops working.

My hair seemed a bit dull after shampooing yesterday.  My skin has been a bit itchy.   Today, I noticed that there was limescale on the inside of the shower door.  I was a bit surprised, I was sure that I had wiped it over with Viakal only a week ago (maybe two weeks, time does go quickly).  The shower head was a bit limescaley, which surprised me even more as I'd stood it in a descaler solution very recently, and it takes ages to fur up. 

It wasn't the water softener. I've been caught out before and now I open the flao every couple of days to check whether the salt needs changing. I'd checked last night and there was still salt in there.

This morning I was doing kitcheny related things.  One of these was to take some sourdough starter out to make a oaf of bread.   When it came to replenishing the Starter I decided to use warm water instead of cold, and to do this using half boiling and half cold.  I emptied some boiling water from the kettle into a jug and I saw that it had bits in.   I opened the kettle and saw that the bottom was full of limescale.  This was impossible.  When I had my de-limescaling blitz recently,  I descaled everything and I  had had to buy extra descaling sachets from Lakeland.   This was only a couple of weeks ago.

I opened the water softener, and it still had plenty of salt in.  I decided to take the blocks out and give the insides a quick scrub.  And then I saw that the blocks of salt were actually wedged in, and the bottoms were not in the chamber.

At least that explained the  limescale appearing everywhere.

The Water Softener has helpful instructions on the side ons on how to force a manual regeneration.  It mentioned putting a Philips screwdriver in the valbe, pushing down, turning clockwise.   I couldn't find the valve.  I couldn't find the manual. 

My friend YouTube came to my rescue.  Except that the nice American man in the video had easy access to the top of his water softener. Mine is under the sink.  I managed to get top of the case off, and, woth the aid of a torch, I worked out where to stick the screwdriver.  I stuck, I pushed, I turned. Nothing.  I watched the video again, and saw that it was a strong turn, not my girly " turn until it resists".  I could see from the video that the valve had helpful writing on it.  I couldn't see the writing on mine.

In the end, I hoiked the drawer out and stuck my face in the drawer cavity.  And the screwdriver in the valve. Down, and a hard turn unti you push the little thingy along the teeth into what must be the "regenerate" part of the dial.  It burst into life.

LIttle things please little minds, and I'm pleased that I now know how to do this. 

And I am once again reassured that the expense of the water softener was WELL worth it.

Is this it?

Very distressing day yesterday.

In the late afternoon, Tilda began to have very laboured breathing. I checked her over gently, to make sure I wasn't missing something obvious (like peritonitis), but there was no sign of a blockage. There was a lot of gurgling going on - digestive gurgling.

Despite her obvious discomfort from the breathing difficulty,  the rest of her looked quite well.  Her eyes were bright and clear,  her tail was up,  her feathers were glossy.....    She has had spells of breathing trouble before, but they've usually passed after some minutes.  This one carried on.

DH and I talked about what to do.  She was obviously suffering some stress from the breathing difficulty.   Our starting point was that if she was still like it tomorrow (today), then we'd put her to sleep.  A few seconds later, we revised that, and agreed that if she was still like it this evening (yesterday), we'd do it.    I'm sure we've all known people who have kept their pets alive when they should have let them go:  I make sure I'm not  one of them - but I don't want to cull just to end my suffering either.

She sat in her pen. I sat on the floor to keep her company.  She appeared to doze off a couple of times and, each time, I steeled myself because I  thought that "this was it".   In between times,  I used a syringe to give her something to drink.   I took the opportunity to tell her again what a lovely girl she was,  and how she and Lily (my now-dead White Star) had transformed chicken keeping for me.   I also selfishly willed her to let go herself,  because that would mean we didn't have to make the call and then wonder if we had done the right thing.   I reminded myself that she had tried to go on 2nd December, but I had saved her;  we had been so fortunate to have had her company for an extra 3 months, so I should not be upset if she went now. 

Of course all this sentiment, and the pressure of waiting, and the distress of watching her laboured breathing meant that the emotion welled up and overflowed.

I was just getting myself into a state,  which was not helping and was really stupid.  I calmed myself down. DH popped back in to see me before going out,  and then I removed myself to watch some catchup TV to distract myself.

I popped in to check on her every half hour or so.  She was sitting quietly, breathing hard, but still bright eyed and tail up.    When DH came back, we went into the kitchen to make dinner.  Tilda was now breathing a little heavily, but it wasn't laboured.   I topped up her food, which she ate, and more syringe water, which she drank.  She preened herself a bit.

This morning, she's still here. 


She's still looking bright eyed,  she's eating and drinking. Her breathing is a little heavy but I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been looking for it.  She certainly doesn't look like there is any misery from which she needs rescuing.  She's ambling around the kitchen floor as I type.

I'm suffering from a crying-induced migraine, my eyes are sticky.  Serves me right for getting myself into such an emotional state in anticipation, I should have known better.  It does make me prepared though... for a while.

Inside, I know that it isn't going to be long.

Probably.
 

Not so daft

Yesterday Tilda, our bed and breakfast chook, decided that she didn't really fancy going out during the day, thank you very much for asking. 

She had her full English breakfast (live mealworms, followed by a teaspoon of natural yoghurt, followed by a small piece of cucumber and half a grape), and started making her way around the kitchen. I scooshed her to the back door, by walking behind her so she had no choice but to go in the direction I did.

We got to the open back door and I got her on to the step, she sniffed the air, hesitated.....and  made a right hand dive, around the back of my legs and back into the kitchen. She then skipped under one of the breakfast bar stools.  Fair enough.

She spent all day indoors, rejecting 2 further attempts to get her to go out.  I was making Jamie Oliver's slow roast shoulder of pork (6.5 hours,  fantastic as always..in fact, I couldnt bear roast pork until I tried  this way of doing it) and Tilda chose this day to start exploring the big part of the kitchen.  In fact she sat right in the middle if the kitchen floor while we ate our lunch, which isn't something she has done before.

Glad I had chosen pork not chicken!

Still dithering

Sorry for the lack of posting. It's mainly because I'd be harping on about the same old thing and didn't want to bore you with it.

But here it is anyway.

Firstly, Tilda continues her apparently happy residence overnight in our kitchen.  Some time ago she decided she wanted to go in with the others, so I let her.  Despite me thinking I was watching her,  she ended up with a bloody comb and a peck in the eye.  I couldn't be sure who had done it, as I know that her presence brings out the nastiness in all four of the older Girls,  I even once saw the usually gentle Roobarb give her a peck .

About a week ago, I was watching them go to bed on the Hencam (by which  I mean, of course, I was watching the Hencam. I don't mean they were bedding down on it).   The two Littlees always take an age to go in, but on the day I was watching, I realised that they were going in and being chased out.    Indignant on their behalf, I stormed outside, wrenched open the lid of the cube, and then I pushed Milly down the ladder.   This let Lotti and Poppy get in, and then Milly got back in.

I went back inside, and saw the LIttlees come hurtling out again,  and I saw Milly physically leaping at them through the pop hole when they tried to get in.   Again I went out,  this time I hoiked Milly out and put her in the spare Cube. 

The following morning, I let them all out together.  That evening, the same sort of shenanigans, Milly was physically lunging at them to stop them going in.  Again, I hoiked her out and put her in the other Cube.

We're now at the stage where they are all (except Tilda of course) out together during the day,  but at night I separate Custard and Milly into the other Cube.  The Littlees are now going to bed without any problem.  (Custard joined Milly after I caught her chasing the Littlees round the run one evening).

I'm ready to remove both Custard and Milly permanently.  I don't want them passing on this unacceptable behaviour to Lotti and Poppy.  So why haven't I culled them as I have threatened to before?   Mainly it is because I had decided some time ago that culling wasn't to be undertaken lightly or, more particularly,  in a moment of anger.      Milly and Custard are behaving themselves during the day, and they are both going into the other Cube without too much fuss in the evening.   And while they are all behaving themselves with the current setup, I can't justify to myself that it needs doing. So, I've kinda got myself stuck into this routine now.

I do realise that I am probably just putting off the inevitable, and I suspect there is part of me that is thinking Nature may intervene anyway (Milly is no spring chicken).  

And I suppose I want to make myself feel better about it (if such a thing is possible) by being sure I've done "all I can".

Chicken Church

A friend on the Omlet forum posted a link to a Daily Mail article about a chicken church..

It made me smile... so I thought I'd post a pic here.

Here's a link to the article: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2287782/Holy-cluck-Church-unlikely-tourist-attraction-hundreds-flock-CHICKEN-face.html

Doh!

I managed to lock myself in the chicken run.

Are you sure?

Tilda has been getting perkier and perkier.   I'm not counting my chickens (pun intended), because I've seen this before - an apparent rally before dying.  But she really is  getting bolshy.

When one of us (by which, 6 out of 7 days is DH) comes down in the morning to feed the cats and make the morning drinks, she's not just out of her bedroom: she now marches into the middle of the kitchen when she sees us, and demands her breakfast, please!

When she's wolfed down her mealworms (ever regret starting something?!), she demands her yoghurt. Washburn (ginger cat) knows what yoghurt is and he can hear the sound of the tub being opened even if he's in the garden, so he comes rushing in or a spoonful as well.

And then Tilda is pacing up and down to be taken out.

This morning, she jumped out of the door herself.  Granted, she didn't go anywhere once she got outside.   I put her in her run, let the other girls out and came back in to make tea, have shower etc.

By the time I got back downstairs, there was a terrible racket coming from the garden.  It was like the scene in the Italian Job, where they are all in the big house getting ready to go, and then all of the Boys started whingeing (Me in the back with my migraines?).  Anyway. I went outside and they were all at it.  Not just Lotti and Poppy, all of them.  And then I saw that Tilda was also whingeing loudly. Actually it wasn't loudly, because I had to get quite close before I could hear her,  but I could see from her body that she was whingeing as loudly as she could.

So, I opened the gate to her run, and let her get in with the others.   Then I came back into the house, opened the kitchen door,  and the bedroom windows, so that we could hear if there was any trouble.

I should probably add that I put Tilda in with the big girls a couple of days ago..at least, I put her down on the ground as I needed two hands to do something else. This was the day after they'd let her sit under the Pampass bush without (as far as I could tell) molesting her.     However,  Custard appeared from nowhere and attacked her.  That's why I'm a little nervous.

So, she's been in there for a couple of hours.  

I've briefly allowed myself the fantasy that we might be able to reintegrate her with the flock... but I don't really believe that.  And I really don't like to count my chickens.

Taking advantage

Lotti and Poppy are friendlier than ever.  Since visiting the school, I've continued with my daily pick-up-and-give-treat routine.   Whenever I go in the hens' area,  POppy and Lotti run around my feet and want to be picked up.  If I don't pick them up,  one or other or both of them will try and fly up to land on my arm, even if my arm isn't outstretched.

Today I went in, stroked the two of them and attempted - in vain - to stroke the others.  Milly hadn't looked right this morning.  Actuallhy, she hadn't looked right last night, she hadn't come running in when I put corn in the run, and she hadn't run away when I went to pick her up.

This morning, she just didn't look right.  It's a hard thing to explain.  Her eyes looked fine, her enormous comb was bright red, she was up and about.... but she just wasn't behaving like her normal nasty self.

After breakfast I went out again with the intention of picking her up and giving her a quick check over.  I did so, and she was very esay to catch (definitely not right!).  I was holding her in my arms when I heard this frenzy of flapping and Lotti (jealous?) had landed on the back of my neck.  I slowly stood up straight dso that she could manouevre herself onto my shoulder.  As I was doing this,  Poppy flew up and landed on my arm - the arm I was holding Milly with.  With Milly clasped in my two hands,  I dropped my shoulder slightly and Poppy hopped up.

I looked like a greedy pirate - a bird on each shoulder.

Ooh ar.

Spike. Again.

Spike was one of last year's hatch.  I wanted to include a Leghorn in my Garden Girls flock, and slipped two Exchequer Leghorn eggs in with last year's table bird hatch.  Both eggs were fertile, both hatched, one being the lovely and loopy Lotti and the other being Spike. 

Being a Leghorn, Spike stood out from the dinner chicks who are all Welsh Blacks (Australorp x Indian Game).   The Other CHap (OC) who does the dinner chickens with us, quite took to Spike and his antics.  Spike has cartook comb and wattles;  he's funny; he's a character.  He wanted to keep Spike.

We had previousy decided that we would keep two flocks, one with breeding Girls and a cockerel, and the other with the small Girls (like Norman, NotNorman, Siouxsie) and the Old Ladies (like Mrs). Actually, Mrs and Norman etc are the same age, but Mrs looks her age whereas Norman and her sisters look forever young.      This would prevent any risk of injury, and would mean that the Old Ladies didn't have to suffer a cockerel attentions.

We explained that Spike wouldn't make a good cockerel for a dinner flock.  Spike continued to endear himself,  and in the end we agreed that  we could possibly keep Spike as a companion for the Old Ladies half of the flock.  He's a very lightweight bird, so at least there would be less risk of injury.

Around this time Spike started escaping from the Dinner half of the allotment into the Old Ladies half of the allotment.  Every day we would catch him and move him back.   We clipped his wings.  He carried on getting out.   In the end, we left him in there,and he's been a very proud boy ever since.

I'm not sure that the Girls Old Ladies really appreciate having a cockerel around.   

DH came back from the Allotment on Friday, chuckling away to himself.  He'd arrived at the allotment to find that Spike and 5 of his 7 ladies were all sitting on top of the Coop.    Now, our coops are very high.  They are on legs so that we don't have to bend down to clean them out,  and the top is waaay abpve my head height.     The Girls don't get up on the roof - ever - and the thought of Spike and his harem sitting in a line up there made me laugh out loud.   They must like him really then.

Sadly Mrs wasn't part of the roof party,  she's too stiff to be able to get up there.  Not sure why Norah (or Batty, DH wasn't sure which of them) wasn't there too, maybe she was busy laying an egg.

Into the lions den

Whilst DH was doing the Run I was busy doing those horrible garden tasks that are best done in sunshine.   Emptying buckets which had a bit of something gardeny in, but had been left out all winter and were now full of stinking water, that sort of thing. Then scrubbing said buckets. 

I fenced off an area by the fence where there was a newly pruned bed, and put Tilda in there for a bit of a treat.   She stood by the fencing looking out,  like a prisoner, wistfully.

I got her out and let her wander round the un-netted garden.  She spent a bit of time under my feet until she decided that she didn't really like all the water.  Then she went and stood by the other Girls' area, looking in through the fencing.

Against my better judgement, I picked her up and put her in there, and she scurried under the Pampas grass.   I kept an eye on her as I was working in the garden.  Custard, one of her two main persecutors, ambled past and espied her.  She waked deliberately into the Pampas.  I stayed where I was, lifted up my arm with a brish in my hand, ready to throw.    Nothing happened.

Later, Milly (the most spiteful hen I've ever met, and Tildas number one persecutor) emerged from laying an egg,  and saw.  She sat next to Custard.  Both of them were close to Tilda, but there was no physical contact.    I carried on working,  but keeping one eye on Tilda.

Much later,  all 6 of the other Girls were round one side of the Pampas, and Tilda was on her own round the other side (where she had been all the time).

Even though I'm now inside, I'm watching throught the kitchen window to make sure everything is OK.  

Goodness knows what will happen at shutting-in time.   I guess I'll have to see what Tilda thinks she wants to do.  I hope she doesn't have any plans of going in the Run with the others.....

Floored

DH built a walk in run for me years ago.    It's fantastic.  

The Cube run, which joins the side, has been extended over the years,  and then we added the chick cube, making an F shape.  Tilda currently uses the Chick's cube and run during the day, which is fine until we hatch chicks later in the year.

Over the years, the flooring level has gradually got lower and lower as the various Girls have rooked and scratched and dustbathed in it, and I have cleaned out and put in fresh Aubiose.   It has now reached breaking point - so low that I was reluctant to clean it out.

We discussed various options - including, of course, paving it.  We had tried rubber chippings in one of the Cube runs.  They were OK, but I think are better suited to an unroofed area.   We talked about getting some of that car parking hexagonal stuff, but in the end we tried something else.

So, today, everything came out of the run, and DH set to work levelling it, barrowing insoil from the rest of the garden, and then putting some mesh on the floor, compacting as he went.  A final layer of fresh soil, more compacting... and it looks fabulous.    I sprinkled some horse bedding over it,  but wasn't sure whether I was better off going gor a little or a lot.  I opted for a little, time will tell if that was the wrong choice. 

Everything back in... wonder what the Girls will think?

Infantile

I took Lotti and Poppy into a local Primary school today.

My great-niece's class were having a sort of animal "show & tell" week, and she'd asked me via her Nanna (my aunt) if I would take a chicken in.

No problem.  A year or so ago someone else on a Chicken Forum I frequent had been asked to go in to a school, so there was a thread of ideas.    I have happily stood up and trained and/or presented to large groups before, so I wasn't too worried about that side of things. The main problem would be not talking too much and at too high a level. 

Tilda,  the Girl I would normally choose for introducing anyone to hens, isn't herself and we thought that taking her into a school might be a bit stressful.  So, for the last two weeks (since I agreed to do it), I've been out every day to get Poppy and Lotti more used to being picked up. Rain, snow, wind... every day without fail.

Poppy and Lotti are very happy to be handled by me but they are used to flying on to my outstretched arm, bird of prey style, and perchng  calmly with their claws round my forearm making them feel secure.

I thought this was possibly not the best approach with a classroom of small people, so I've been trying to get them used to actually being held.   It's OK.   I wouldn't say they are ecstatic about it, but they put up with it.    Food is a great training aid.

I prepared a few things to say, put some pics on my laptop, ad got some additional stuff ready to take. I had been warned that I would have to park in the local car park and walk from there,  so I packed a rucksack with the ancillary stuff, leaving my arms free to carry the crate.

My rucksack was bulging with a large laptop,  tubs containing examples of pellets, corn, oyster shell, grapes, meal worms; a roll of kitchen towel, toilet roll, gloves and Dettox in case of accidents; an apron (in case the girls had pooey feet by the time I came to extract them); wet wipes.....   The dog crate (Tilda's evening pen) was covered in an old tablecloth held on by pegs.  And four different coloured eggs, one brown, one dark brown, one white, one greeny blue.  This was actually a bit of a cheat as my blue egg layer isn't laying yet, and Lotti has only just started laying so her eggs are very small.     I had asked for help on a chicken forum and a lovely lady called Patricia was able to help, and I collected three of the four eggs from her yesterday. (Thank you again Patricia).


The Girls behaved impeccably (or perhaps I should say impeckably), and sat (one at a time) in my arms without any accidents.   When I went to put Poppy back she decided she didn't really want to go back, thank you,  and decided to jump on to an easel, much to the delight of the children.

The children were really well behaved too,  and their teacher was really lovely.   Fabulous methods they use in Primary schools these days,  including junior versions of techniques that I've used myself in my trainer roles.  Shame these techniques aren't carried on through secondary school. But I digress, sorry.  Every class had a smartboard and laptop, so all I had really needed was a USB stick, I didn't need my laptop after all.

We stopped at a second class on the way out so that the children there could look at the chickens,  and in the end I got Lotti out again so that they could stroke her.

I think it went well enough... I'd like to have had more opportunity for the children to stroke the hens,  but due to circumstances out of our control, the time couldn't be flexible.   I'm keen to find out what my great-niece (T)  thought of it, and what her teacher really thought of it.  I've asked T's mum to see if she can find out.

Then there were two

Am absolutely shattered this morning.   Had a strange dream, where I was being embalmed and buried (alive).  I was slowly suffocating, the coffin had been mostly filled with soil as well so there wasn't much oxygen to start with.   I was saved by the phone ringing at 1.55am, which woke me up.

It was a relatively early start today, as DH and OC (Other Chap) were going to cull 3 dinner cockerels, leaving us with 2 potential breeding cockerels.    The 3 that are going were never really in the running for breeding cockerel.   The two that are, Grey Ring and Indiana, are the two boys who were friendliest as chicks, and had their cards marked from very early on.     Really we should probably have Made The Decision and culled 4 cockerels today, but it's just too difficult.

On the one hand we have Indiana  (yellow ring),  whoseplus points are that he was the original friendly chick, and the fact that he isn't brother to any of the Girls.   He is an Indian Game x Welsh Black, and we only had one of those hatch which is him.

On the other hand we have Grey Ring, whose plus points are that he was the second friendly chick,  he's a strapping lad, and is top chook.   He may or may  not be brother to some or all of the Girls, we just don't know. There were two other strains that hatched,  some Australorp x Welsh Black and some Welsh Black x Welsh Black.   We have no idea which batch he is from, and we have no idea which batch(es) the Girls are from.

We haven't spent time handling either boy, so I have no idea what their temperaments are like now.  Ideally, I'd like to keep them both until the breeding season starts and we can see how they behave. I have a soft spot for them both.  And common sense tells me that the unrelated Indiana is a good choice.  But Grey is gorgeous and currently top Chook, and I just can't bring myself to send him for the chop.

There are currently 6 girls between them, so we'll see what happens over the next week or two.

Yay!

It was an egg!

A small, white, egg.

And yes, I did do the egg dance.

About to Lay or About to Brood?

Lotti, my exchequer Leghorn, has been crouching for me for weeks, interrupted by the snow.  No eggs yet.  

But then we haven't had any eggs from the Garden Girls at all for some time.  Not that many of them are young enough to still be in regular lay anyway. And  I am overfeeding corn (in the evenings because of the cold), so I'm not entirely surprised.

This morning when I woke up  I could hear Lotti complaining. Non stop. Not very loud, but certainly very constant.   It was her usual "why don't you come and let us out" whinge.   The doorbell made me finally get out of bed at 8.30 and, once up, I didn't go back to bed.

I put the kettle on,  opened the back door, and suggested to Tilda that she might like to go out now. Tilda had other ideas though, and instead of letting me shuffle her to the door, she hobbled back into her pen.  I left her there - no point in giving a chook a choice if you then ignore her decision.

The Garden Girls had seen me open the back door though and were quite excited. I went out to give them their freedom, and was surprised to see that Lotti was missing..  Ha! Laying an egg perhaps?

I went round to the Cube and opened the egg port. No Lotti.

I looked under the Cube, into the Egg which acts as a spare nesting box.  No Lotti.

I stuck my head in the Cube and saw Lotti on the roosting bars.  She looked OK. No sign of injury.  She moved towards me, and then started picking up bits of Aubiose from the nestbox, tossing them over her back. I've seen that behaviour before, and it's usually a forewarning of a broody spell.  I remember Lily (my White Ranger, a Leghorn hybrid) used to do it.

But surely she can't be broody when she hasn't laid any eggs?

Or maybe there is a secret stash of eggs somewhere  in the garden?

I picked her up and gave ger a cuddle, and then put her backin the nestbox to carry on.

Ill check again later.  If she's in there "sitting", I'll have to do a thorough garden check.  I'm hoping that there might be a egg instead though.

All these years, and I still get excited.

Spike

So. Yesterday got the fire going in the stove, and moved Spike (in Tilda's pen, a metal dog crate) in front of it.  Eventually he perked up a bit. Not a lot, but a bit.   He started to drink from the syringe, and eventually he even drank from the water pot.   he wasn't interested in food, but I did manage to get a bit of yoghurt into him.   

Isobel, cat, was most upset that one of those things had now encroached on her living room territory.

At 4pm it was time to put the Girls away and bring Tilda in.  I transferred Spike into a cardboard box, into which I'd cut air holes and slits to hold plastic coop cups.  It was a fairly tall box, one in which he could stand up completely even if i shut the lid.   I decided a cardboard box in front of the woodburning stove was possibly a recipe for disaster, so I put it in the kitchen,

Wash, our nosey ginger cat who loves boxes, got a bit of a shock when he put his paws on to the edge of the new box in the kitchen.   Fortunately for everyone, he hadn't just jumped straight in.     An oven shelf over the top of Spike's box prevented any further problems on that front.

We borrowed the bedside reading light and shone it into Spike's box so he could see the food and water. I put some grapes and mealworms into the food container, and eventually we heard him pecking at it.

By the time we went to bed, Spike no longer looked like he was in shock.

....

This morning, I heard a cracked cockadoodle doo.  Followed by several more.  It was about 7am, and I had a headache and couldn't face getting up.  DH was fast asleep.  After about half a dozen attempts, he stopped (Spike, crowing, that is).

A little while later, a stronger series of cockadoodle doo.

And then some more. Eventually, DH woke up.    Neither of us had work this morning, so we were trying to doze.   Both cats were on the bed, and had started to stomp around, presumably wondering where in the hell breakfast had got to.

DH got up, fed cats, and took the oven rack off Spike's box.  This meant that not only could Spike stand up, but he could stretch his head and neck right out of the box.... and that meant he could really COCK A DOODLE DOOOOOOOOO.   He was so pleased that he could do it properly that he made up for the weaker earlier attempts.

By the time I got downstairs, he had climbed out of the box and was perching on the side, crowing happily.    Tilda had come out of her pen, was standing by his box with her wings over her ears, telling him to shut the heck up.  

Apart from the bloody blobs on his comb and wattles, and the crispy bits of feather where the blood had splattered yesterday and I hadn't been able to get it off,  he looks like his normal self.   We briefly discussed whether I should bath him but, as this would have meant he would have to stay here today to dry off, we decided not to.

I sent a text to my lovely next door  neighbour to apologise, and to reassure her that he was going back home shortly.

 DH got the purple spray, and sprayed his comb and wattles (and the bench outside, and anything nearby).  We then popped him into Tilda's pen, and had something to eat while we waited for it to dry. I wondered whether he would be any more kindly disposed towards me, after I had taken such care of him.  I suspect not.

DH is taking him back to the allotment as I type. Fingers crossed it's all OK.