I'm actually pretty sad it has come to an end. I can't believe I've completed 7 weeks and I'm still just as enthusiastic as when I started, what has changed is my aim for keeping bees. To start with the honey was the main reason I wanted to keep bees but now I'm more excited about observing the behaviour of bees in the hive. They sound amazing and I've got a new-found appreciation for the teamwork required by these interesting little creatures to keep a healthy hive.
In perfect timing I received an email from a friend of a friend who is a commercial beekeeper giving me a phone number for someone that might give me some much needed experience in working hives. I'm hoping to have a hive by the end of the year, I'm currently lacking a bit of courage, nothing that a bit of hands on experience won't combat.
The animals are all great. I have been putting Little-Bit to bed under Pippi's wing each night.
Tarka is great but now Mabel is showing some signs of having sore feet, I'm sure her little hooves just need a trim so I'll get to that after some research on how to trim goats hooves. Hoby is back to his old self and Ella is being very compliant with the dieting rules. Sheamus is having tantrums about being on a diet, poor fella. He's loving roaming free as are the goats, I love that they're one big happy family and I wonder what they get up to when I'm not here. Shenanigans galore I'm sure.
Another 'Mother of the Year' prize removed.
Is it possible that I jinxed things by mentioning that Slick was in the phase of motherhood where she couldn't really care less about Little-Bit? Tonight, I discovered that Slick had put herself to bed up in the tree with her siblings, parents and uncles. Forget the little bundle of feathers that is her baby peeping around on the ground with no way of getting up into that tree! So, after watching the whole flock go to bed I chased Little-Bit around and boy is he/she fast, and then popped him/her under the wing of Pippi, ironically the 'bad mum' of Little Jack. Perhaps this is her chance to redeem herself?
Nigel attacked me this morning - big time! Not just a warning or funny dance suggesting that I should scoot but fully fledged attack. He sunk his beak into my left thigh, just above my knee and it gave me a dead leg feeling for the whole day, so he's going by his alias 'Asshole' for now.
Ella and Tarka were tucked into the triangle fatty paddock with a bran mash to help digest all that hay they've been eating. I collected a wheelbarrow load of manure for the heap and took Hoby for a little walk. I'm so glad that Hoby is feeling better, he's got another two days left on antibiotics and this morning was the first morning he's walked on all four feet since last week. I was getting used to the three-legged gallop with the left front foot in propellor mode, cute but tragic at the same time.
Tarka is also feeling much better. He trotted, soundly, up and down the paddock when he saw Ella so I decided to reunite them for the evening.
Sheamus seems to be getting into the routine of veges for breakfast and a cup of nuts for dinner. The horrid roaring of frustration has stopped now that he's left to free range all day. His diet is now made up mainly of grass and veges with a side of nuts rather than the other way around, although I don't think he's a fan of the new regime I think he's come to accept it. As he and Ella have spent a lot of time together over the last couple of days I see their communication methods have also changed, everything is much more subtle. Ella doesn't need to kick him anymore, instead she hovers a foot in front of him and he promptly moves and Sheamus no longer squeals instead he has a quiet little grunt that Ella immediately understands as 'get out of my way'.
The goats appear to have bonded more with Tarka, probably due to his smaller size and his vicinity to their safe haven. I find them mingling with him without a care. They've become more adventurous and venture into different places - up on the bank, in the drain, on the edge of the bush - always keeping close to their home. When I went to let them back into their enclosure this evening it was already dusk and Mabel's sounded very exhausted and pleased to be going home. They wait by their gate, I open it and they toddle off inside and up to their a-frame house, simplicity at its finest.
So, as I head off to bed knowing that everyone is feeling better, no longer in pain (except me - my leg's killing me!) and accepting their fate as diet-bunnies I begin to contemplate jumping on the bandwagon myself. 10 kg is my aim, I want to get back to 58 kg and a size 10 which is when I felt my best. If I can weigh, measure and control the feed for all my companions surely I can make the time to do it for myself too? I'll try it for a week and see how I go, starting on Saturday!
Nigel attacked me this morning - big time! Not just a warning or funny dance suggesting that I should scoot but fully fledged attack. He sunk his beak into my left thigh, just above my knee and it gave me a dead leg feeling for the whole day, so he's going by his alias 'Asshole' for now.
Ella and Tarka were tucked into the triangle fatty paddock with a bran mash to help digest all that hay they've been eating. I collected a wheelbarrow load of manure for the heap and took Hoby for a little walk. I'm so glad that Hoby is feeling better, he's got another two days left on antibiotics and this morning was the first morning he's walked on all four feet since last week. I was getting used to the three-legged gallop with the left front foot in propellor mode, cute but tragic at the same time.
Tarka is also feeling much better. He trotted, soundly, up and down the paddock when he saw Ella so I decided to reunite them for the evening.
Sheamus seems to be getting into the routine of veges for breakfast and a cup of nuts for dinner. The horrid roaring of frustration has stopped now that he's left to free range all day. His diet is now made up mainly of grass and veges with a side of nuts rather than the other way around, although I don't think he's a fan of the new regime I think he's come to accept it. As he and Ella have spent a lot of time together over the last couple of days I see their communication methods have also changed, everything is much more subtle. Ella doesn't need to kick him anymore, instead she hovers a foot in front of him and he promptly moves and Sheamus no longer squeals instead he has a quiet little grunt that Ella immediately understands as 'get out of my way'.
The goats appear to have bonded more with Tarka, probably due to his smaller size and his vicinity to their safe haven. I find them mingling with him without a care. They've become more adventurous and venture into different places - up on the bank, in the drain, on the edge of the bush - always keeping close to their home. When I went to let them back into their enclosure this evening it was already dusk and Mabel's sounded very exhausted and pleased to be going home. They wait by their gate, I open it and they toddle off inside and up to their a-frame house, simplicity at its finest.
So, as I head off to bed knowing that everyone is feeling better, no longer in pain (except me - my leg's killing me!) and accepting their fate as diet-bunnies I begin to contemplate jumping on the bandwagon myself. 10 kg is my aim, I want to get back to 58 kg and a size 10 which is when I felt my best. If I can weigh, measure and control the feed for all my companions surely I can make the time to do it for myself too? I'll try it for a week and see how I go, starting on Saturday!
The results are in.
I woke to the sound of rain on the roof, pelting down and cringed at the idea of more mud but relieved that the family is on the mend. The wind was the strongest we've had in a long time.
The update on the health of the animals:
Tarka is suffering (yet again) from laminitis with the left hind being more affected than the others. There is a slight crack in the sole of the hoof which could be attributing to the favouring of this foot as opposed to all-round discomfort. He was given a shot of bute and is on 2mls of bute paste once a day. With the sachet I gave him in the morning and the shot in the afternoon he was comfortable by the evening on Monday which was a relief. The verdict from the vet is NO GRASS for two weeks and he should be penned for two weeks. Whilst I agree that spring grass is the problem I don't feel that penning him in a woodchip stall is completely necessary. I have bought some nice new hay and will feed hay daily in conjection with a little bran mash every couple of days to loosen things up and also allow him free range of the triangle paddock that adjoins the pen area. It is mostly mud but does have the odd blade of grass which I don't feel will be detrimental to his recovery. Both Tarka and Ella had a tetanus vaccination, Ella was thrilled, she's always happy for attention from strangers, even strangers with sharp prodding items. The vet commented on Ella's fatty bum and was most amused by her cellulite. I don't find mine amusing at all, depressing - yes, amusing - no.
Hoby has an infection in his paw from his snapped nail. Just bad luck really. The remainder of his nails have been trimmed right back and his ears were checked with no visible cause for his deafness so it is as we thought, deterioration of the inner ear from old age. They did warn me that dogs can become senile too in their old age so watch for changes in his behaviour. He was given a shot of anti-biotic and ant-inflammatory and he is on a course of amoxicillin twice daily for five days. The sedative knocked him for six and he's done very little other than sleep since Monday. He's coming right now and hopped on three legs with a significant amount of vigour.
Lucifer's 'dangly bits' have been banded with a docking ring. Sam was assured by the vet that it was ok even though the small animal vet that saw him for his eye infection a few weeks ago (from the same clinic) said they were too big to band. He appears in good spirits although he's a little uncomfortable. Sam felt like Judas.
I went to the clinic and collected a worming drench and vaccination boosters for both Mabel and Lucifer. I feel weak at the knees at the sight of the needle but my neighbour is a nurse so I'm sure she can give us some tips on how to administer it as painfree as possible for both me and the babies.
The vet also had a look at Sheamus and has deemed him 'too fat' also. He's on a strict diet of 1/3 of the greens (cabbage, lettuce etc.) he's currently getting, his grass intake needs to be upped and he should roam free the majority of the time. He can have a mere half-cup of pellets each day. Oh dear, I will not be popular. She prepared a booster Lepto vaccine for him too, again, to be administered by us....this, I'm really dreading!
All the chooks are in fine form. Little-Bit and Slick are roaming around the property, they're adorable, she's in the "that's the last time I sit on an egg for a month" phase of motherhood. No longer does she run to investigate Little-Bit's every tweet, instead she casually walks the other way hoping someone will answer the call. The challenge for the day was staying upright as the wind gusts ripped through with extra tenacity. Little-Bit had trouble staying on her feet but I would guarantee she slept very well that night.
Pippi is getting broody and is sitting on eggs layed by anyone and everyone in the Cluck Inn. Even though I remove the eggs from her twice daily she still sits on the porcelain egg growling at me. I know this is a controversial subject, most would suggest letting her sit on a few eggs (some might prescribe handing her from a tree in a barren cage with the wind blowing up her bum to dispell the broodiness!) and I might let her hatch a few but given her track record and significant boredom with motherhood three weeks after hatching Little Jack Sparrow left me withdrawing the mother of the year award from her and vowing never to let her hatch any more. Yes, she was dedicated enough to hatch the first little chick we've ever had on the farm but she certainly had no intention of raising it. If it wasn't for Berlina stepping in to nanny the wee chick to adulthood I hate to think what would have happened to Little Jack Sparrow. Listening to Jack's tweets of dispair when she realised her mother had abandoned her was horrible. I still think of that as being Berlina's dream come true, she was totally chuffed sitting on this little peeping creature and teaching it the ways of the world without putting in the weeks of starvation. What a great surrogate mum she turned out to be and what a fabulous hen Jack has become.
The on-going struggle for storage space has eased slightly. Sam realised the need for a door on the gypsy shed which contains the feed bins, after Sheamus' theiving session. And with his newly appointed diet I expect his scavenging to get worse. So, Sam removed the ailing tackroom's door and fitted it to the gypsy shed. I transferred all the gear over and hey-presto a new, bigger storage shed. The doorless old tackroom certainly isn't being wasted, I came home to find Mabel and Lucifer asleep inside after a huge rainstorm ripped through.
There's still so much to do around the place I wonder if I'll ever find the time. With the door on the gypsy shed I feel like that project is now a little closer to being finished. The roof still need to be replaced, I have all the iron I just need to cut and fit it. Once that's done I can line the inside with plywood and mount my racks and hooks and get things up off the floor. In conjunction with this the old tackroom needs to be demolished and then foundations laid on the old site and then the gypsy shed can be craned into place. Again I have all the material for the foundations. It is a nice thought knowing that once it is dine I'll gain a nice, dry storage shed for all my horse gear and a feed station and the carpark will be much more spaciaous without the gypsy shed in the way.
With all that said I'm now really motivated to use Saturday to get the new roof on the gypsy shed!
The update on the health of the animals:
Tarka is suffering (yet again) from laminitis with the left hind being more affected than the others. There is a slight crack in the sole of the hoof which could be attributing to the favouring of this foot as opposed to all-round discomfort. He was given a shot of bute and is on 2mls of bute paste once a day. With the sachet I gave him in the morning and the shot in the afternoon he was comfortable by the evening on Monday which was a relief. The verdict from the vet is NO GRASS for two weeks and he should be penned for two weeks. Whilst I agree that spring grass is the problem I don't feel that penning him in a woodchip stall is completely necessary. I have bought some nice new hay and will feed hay daily in conjection with a little bran mash every couple of days to loosen things up and also allow him free range of the triangle paddock that adjoins the pen area. It is mostly mud but does have the odd blade of grass which I don't feel will be detrimental to his recovery. Both Tarka and Ella had a tetanus vaccination, Ella was thrilled, she's always happy for attention from strangers, even strangers with sharp prodding items. The vet commented on Ella's fatty bum and was most amused by her cellulite. I don't find mine amusing at all, depressing - yes, amusing - no.
Hoby has an infection in his paw from his snapped nail. Just bad luck really. The remainder of his nails have been trimmed right back and his ears were checked with no visible cause for his deafness so it is as we thought, deterioration of the inner ear from old age. They did warn me that dogs can become senile too in their old age so watch for changes in his behaviour. He was given a shot of anti-biotic and ant-inflammatory and he is on a course of amoxicillin twice daily for five days. The sedative knocked him for six and he's done very little other than sleep since Monday. He's coming right now and hopped on three legs with a significant amount of vigour.
Lucifer's 'dangly bits' have been banded with a docking ring. Sam was assured by the vet that it was ok even though the small animal vet that saw him for his eye infection a few weeks ago (from the same clinic) said they were too big to band. He appears in good spirits although he's a little uncomfortable. Sam felt like Judas.
I went to the clinic and collected a worming drench and vaccination boosters for both Mabel and Lucifer. I feel weak at the knees at the sight of the needle but my neighbour is a nurse so I'm sure she can give us some tips on how to administer it as painfree as possible for both me and the babies.
The vet also had a look at Sheamus and has deemed him 'too fat' also. He's on a strict diet of 1/3 of the greens (cabbage, lettuce etc.) he's currently getting, his grass intake needs to be upped and he should roam free the majority of the time. He can have a mere half-cup of pellets each day. Oh dear, I will not be popular. She prepared a booster Lepto vaccine for him too, again, to be administered by us....this, I'm really dreading!
All the chooks are in fine form. Little-Bit and Slick are roaming around the property, they're adorable, she's in the "that's the last time I sit on an egg for a month" phase of motherhood. No longer does she run to investigate Little-Bit's every tweet, instead she casually walks the other way hoping someone will answer the call. The challenge for the day was staying upright as the wind gusts ripped through with extra tenacity. Little-Bit had trouble staying on her feet but I would guarantee she slept very well that night.
Pippi is getting broody and is sitting on eggs layed by anyone and everyone in the Cluck Inn. Even though I remove the eggs from her twice daily she still sits on the porcelain egg growling at me. I know this is a controversial subject, most would suggest letting her sit on a few eggs (some might prescribe handing her from a tree in a barren cage with the wind blowing up her bum to dispell the broodiness!) and I might let her hatch a few but given her track record and significant boredom with motherhood three weeks after hatching Little Jack Sparrow left me withdrawing the mother of the year award from her and vowing never to let her hatch any more. Yes, she was dedicated enough to hatch the first little chick we've ever had on the farm but she certainly had no intention of raising it. If it wasn't for Berlina stepping in to nanny the wee chick to adulthood I hate to think what would have happened to Little Jack Sparrow. Listening to Jack's tweets of dispair when she realised her mother had abandoned her was horrible. I still think of that as being Berlina's dream come true, she was totally chuffed sitting on this little peeping creature and teaching it the ways of the world without putting in the weeks of starvation. What a great surrogate mum she turned out to be and what a fabulous hen Jack has become.
The on-going struggle for storage space has eased slightly. Sam realised the need for a door on the gypsy shed which contains the feed bins, after Sheamus' theiving session. And with his newly appointed diet I expect his scavenging to get worse. So, Sam removed the ailing tackroom's door and fitted it to the gypsy shed. I transferred all the gear over and hey-presto a new, bigger storage shed. The doorless old tackroom certainly isn't being wasted, I came home to find Mabel and Lucifer asleep inside after a huge rainstorm ripped through.
There's still so much to do around the place I wonder if I'll ever find the time. With the door on the gypsy shed I feel like that project is now a little closer to being finished. The roof still need to be replaced, I have all the iron I just need to cut and fit it. Once that's done I can line the inside with plywood and mount my racks and hooks and get things up off the floor. In conjunction with this the old tackroom needs to be demolished and then foundations laid on the old site and then the gypsy shed can be craned into place. Again I have all the material for the foundations. It is a nice thought knowing that once it is dine I'll gain a nice, dry storage shed for all my horse gear and a feed station and the carpark will be much more spaciaous without the gypsy shed in the way.
With all that said I'm now really motivated to use Saturday to get the new roof on the gypsy shed!
The favoured left foot.
What a morning!
Got up nice and early, found Tarka still laying down so I got him to his feet and very slowly led him to his stall. He couldn't bear any weight on his left hind but seems tender on his left front too. Poor little fella. I 'locked him up' for the day and gave him a small feed with a whole sachet of bute (pain killer) to keep him comfortable until the vet arrives this afternoon. He likes to stand in the stall when his feet are sore, the wood chip is quite springy and must be a nice surface to stand on. It breaks my heart leaving my babies when they're like this, fortunately with the hours that I work and the hours that Sam works the family is only on their own for about 5 hours a day. It is a catch 22 situation, you have to go to work to earn the money to pay for their care but at the same time you just want to lavish them with attention and sympathy when they're not feeling 100%.
When I stepped into the gypsy shed I was met with the horse feed bin on its side and grain all over the floor. I cleaned it up as much as possible and then carried on with the morning ritual.
As things always seems to go wrong all at once I soon discovered that the combination lock on the tackroom had given up and wouldn't let me in, so after several minutes of cursing I decided to prop the lock up on a rock and smack it with a sledgehammer which granted me instant entry!
Next I checked everyone else outside and they all seem ok, thank heavens.
Went back down to the house to see how Hoby was getting on. Last night's late night hobble to the house broke my heart. Hoby is such a trooper, he hopped on three legs to the house and presented his swollen left paw for me to look at. Straight away I knew the problem. He'd snapped a toenail off pretty close to the quick on Friday night, it wasn't close enough to bleed but it must have been close enough to let some nasty bugs in. He'd not favoured it at all over the weekend but being so muddy around home at the moment it was inevitable that he was going to get mud in it, so an infection has broken out in the 'toe'. It took a few tries before I got hold of the vet to book Hoby in for the day and Tarka in for the afternoon. Hoby needs to be sedated for anything medical related, he's become quite intollerant of poking and prodding in his old age.
I got ready for work, shovelled in a spoonful of chocolate gateaux birthday cake (and I wonder why I'm not skinny!) before grabbing Hoby and loading him into the car. I opened Sheamus's gate on the way past and he made a beeline right for the gypsy shed to take care of the horse feed spill. No amount of persuasion could get him out of there so I secured the other bins as best I could, wondered when he'd learn't how to climb into the gypsy shed and rushed off, now running late. In all the excitement I completely forgot that I'd grabbed the horses' halters and had them in my car, what a ditz!
On the drive to the clinic there was a road block and a policeman standing in the middle of the road asked me if I had any children. I replied with a simple 'no' but felt like saying, I have pets and sometimes I wonder which are more work.
Hoby went into the vet clinic without any reservations and I had to sign a form that said I understand that Hoby might cark it whilst under sedation/ anaesthesia, that's always a sobering moment, I felt such a massive sense of detatchment from my boy as I drive away from the clinic chocking on tears.
Got up nice and early, found Tarka still laying down so I got him to his feet and very slowly led him to his stall. He couldn't bear any weight on his left hind but seems tender on his left front too. Poor little fella. I 'locked him up' for the day and gave him a small feed with a whole sachet of bute (pain killer) to keep him comfortable until the vet arrives this afternoon. He likes to stand in the stall when his feet are sore, the wood chip is quite springy and must be a nice surface to stand on. It breaks my heart leaving my babies when they're like this, fortunately with the hours that I work and the hours that Sam works the family is only on their own for about 5 hours a day. It is a catch 22 situation, you have to go to work to earn the money to pay for their care but at the same time you just want to lavish them with attention and sympathy when they're not feeling 100%.
When I stepped into the gypsy shed I was met with the horse feed bin on its side and grain all over the floor. I cleaned it up as much as possible and then carried on with the morning ritual.
As things always seems to go wrong all at once I soon discovered that the combination lock on the tackroom had given up and wouldn't let me in, so after several minutes of cursing I decided to prop the lock up on a rock and smack it with a sledgehammer which granted me instant entry!
Next I checked everyone else outside and they all seem ok, thank heavens.
Went back down to the house to see how Hoby was getting on. Last night's late night hobble to the house broke my heart. Hoby is such a trooper, he hopped on three legs to the house and presented his swollen left paw for me to look at. Straight away I knew the problem. He'd snapped a toenail off pretty close to the quick on Friday night, it wasn't close enough to bleed but it must have been close enough to let some nasty bugs in. He'd not favoured it at all over the weekend but being so muddy around home at the moment it was inevitable that he was going to get mud in it, so an infection has broken out in the 'toe'. It took a few tries before I got hold of the vet to book Hoby in for the day and Tarka in for the afternoon. Hoby needs to be sedated for anything medical related, he's become quite intollerant of poking and prodding in his old age.
I got ready for work, shovelled in a spoonful of chocolate gateaux birthday cake (and I wonder why I'm not skinny!) before grabbing Hoby and loading him into the car. I opened Sheamus's gate on the way past and he made a beeline right for the gypsy shed to take care of the horse feed spill. No amount of persuasion could get him out of there so I secured the other bins as best I could, wondered when he'd learn't how to climb into the gypsy shed and rushed off, now running late. In all the excitement I completely forgot that I'd grabbed the horses' halters and had them in my car, what a ditz!
On the drive to the clinic there was a road block and a policeman standing in the middle of the road asked me if I had any children. I replied with a simple 'no' but felt like saying, I have pets and sometimes I wonder which are more work.
Hoby went into the vet clinic without any reservations and I had to sign a form that said I understand that Hoby might cark it whilst under sedation/ anaesthesia, that's always a sobering moment, I felt such a massive sense of detatchment from my boy as I drive away from the clinic chocking on tears.
Happy Birthday to Ella...and Me!
Today is my birthday, and Ella's. When I acquired Ella 11 years ago in July I was told she was 9 months old, so I did the calculations and realised that if their predictions were correct she was born in October. I bestowed upon her the lucky number 13 as her birth day. Hey, it means I never forget. My animals don't get the birthday cakes or spoilt treatment that some other people put their pets through on their birthdays. I'm thrilled that they were born but I prefer to show my gratitude for having them in my life every day.
I must admit that I had a very lazy day, I lay in bed reading until midday, was presented with breakfast in bed and Sam did the majority of the feeding chores. I decided that everyone could have full run of the property so all the gates were flung open (except the entrance gates!) and everyone mingled. Even Slick and her little chick explored the big wide world.
I pottered away inside doing some sewing and then had cuddles with the fur, feather and bristle family in the afternoon before getting ready for my birthday dinner with my human family.
Shamey (Sheamus) as I affectionately refer to him, met me at the top of my pathway for a big cuddle. You can't help but smile when we walks towards you with his happy face rolling from side to side as he steps in his stilletto-high-heel style walk. His latest trick is to roll over so that you can scratch his big pink tummy. I was interested to see that he and Ella have come to a mutual understanding. She came over to say 'hi' walking next to him and he gave a quiet squeal that almost sounded like a 2 year old saying 'Ellllaaaaaah, its my turn' and Ella stopped and went 'alright-alright' gave me a look and wandered off to eat grass. Her enthusiasm still freaks him out but he doesn't run squealing with her in hot pursuit anymore. He went through a phase of stopping suddenly and facing her head on and grunting very forcefully and blowing boogers at her in the process, she got the message pretty quickly that he wasn't interested in being friends. Since then a very emotionally hurt and rejected Ella has gently kicked him in the rump on one occasion just for the sake of it. Sheamus didn't even acknowledge her beligerant spite but instead continued to appear jovial about digging wallows in her paddock. It is nice to see that they now have a language they both understand although I'm still not sure who is the boss of who.
Mabel called out to me when she heard my voice, she was on the edge of the bush nibbling at all sorts of delicious things. She had found a patch of honeysuckle with brand new sweet little leaves and was happily tucking in, bragging about it to me in between mouthfuls. Lucifer was a good distance away from her and seemed much more on edge. I called him and he hurtled towards me down the driveway and then as if he realised mid gallop that he wasn't actually supposed to let on that he was pleased to see me he stopped, turned around and went the opposite direction for a couple of steps before deciding that the cat was out of the bag, he liked me and he wanted to see me, especially to nibble on my sterling silver and turquoise ring that he's so facinated with.
The getogether at my sister's house was lots of fun. We had a great dinner. Egg salad, mashed potatoes, steamed peas, carrots, brocolli and cheese sauce with vege schnitzel for me and beef schnitzel for everyone else. My family all pitched in to buy me some beekeeping equipment including a veil, overalls, gloves, a hive tool and smoker. Now I'm all set, I just need a hive and some bees.
It was a great evening until we got home to find Tarka laying down with heat in his hind hoof and Hoby hopping on three legs. There was nothing I could do so late at night that wouldn't send me completely broke (ie. call the on-call vet for Tarka and take Hoby to the after hours vet) and irritate the animals so I decided to let them get a night's sleep. I went to bed knowing full well I'd have a restless sleep worrying about my boys but at least I could come up with a plan for the morning.
I must admit that I had a very lazy day, I lay in bed reading until midday, was presented with breakfast in bed and Sam did the majority of the feeding chores. I decided that everyone could have full run of the property so all the gates were flung open (except the entrance gates!) and everyone mingled. Even Slick and her little chick explored the big wide world.
I pottered away inside doing some sewing and then had cuddles with the fur, feather and bristle family in the afternoon before getting ready for my birthday dinner with my human family.
Shamey (Sheamus) as I affectionately refer to him, met me at the top of my pathway for a big cuddle. You can't help but smile when we walks towards you with his happy face rolling from side to side as he steps in his stilletto-high-heel style walk. His latest trick is to roll over so that you can scratch his big pink tummy. I was interested to see that he and Ella have come to a mutual understanding. She came over to say 'hi' walking next to him and he gave a quiet squeal that almost sounded like a 2 year old saying 'Ellllaaaaaah, its my turn' and Ella stopped and went 'alright-alright' gave me a look and wandered off to eat grass. Her enthusiasm still freaks him out but he doesn't run squealing with her in hot pursuit anymore. He went through a phase of stopping suddenly and facing her head on and grunting very forcefully and blowing boogers at her in the process, she got the message pretty quickly that he wasn't interested in being friends. Since then a very emotionally hurt and rejected Ella has gently kicked him in the rump on one occasion just for the sake of it. Sheamus didn't even acknowledge her beligerant spite but instead continued to appear jovial about digging wallows in her paddock. It is nice to see that they now have a language they both understand although I'm still not sure who is the boss of who.
Mabel called out to me when she heard my voice, she was on the edge of the bush nibbling at all sorts of delicious things. She had found a patch of honeysuckle with brand new sweet little leaves and was happily tucking in, bragging about it to me in between mouthfuls. Lucifer was a good distance away from her and seemed much more on edge. I called him and he hurtled towards me down the driveway and then as if he realised mid gallop that he wasn't actually supposed to let on that he was pleased to see me he stopped, turned around and went the opposite direction for a couple of steps before deciding that the cat was out of the bag, he liked me and he wanted to see me, especially to nibble on my sterling silver and turquoise ring that he's so facinated with.
The getogether at my sister's house was lots of fun. We had a great dinner. Egg salad, mashed potatoes, steamed peas, carrots, brocolli and cheese sauce with vege schnitzel for me and beef schnitzel for everyone else. My family all pitched in to buy me some beekeeping equipment including a veil, overalls, gloves, a hive tool and smoker. Now I'm all set, I just need a hive and some bees.
It was a great evening until we got home to find Tarka laying down with heat in his hind hoof and Hoby hopping on three legs. There was nothing I could do so late at night that wouldn't send me completely broke (ie. call the on-call vet for Tarka and take Hoby to the after hours vet) and irritate the animals so I decided to let them get a night's sleep. I went to bed knowing full well I'd have a restless sleep worrying about my boys but at least I could come up with a plan for the morning.
Safe Haven
I have long known that my home is my safe haven, and I don't just mean the four walls of my house, my home extends to the bush and pasture, that's home to me. Today I discovered that Lucifer also has a safe haven. I got up nice and early, it was a beautiful day, perfect blue sky.
I took to the horses to the grass verge out the front of the property to their taped area and carted up some water. Then I heard a mischevious 'maaaaaa' which is Mabel's catchword, emitted in several different tones I can often tell when she's up to no good or in dire straits or just plain contented and today it was a 'maaaa [look where I am!]'.
There they were, not just Mabel but Lucifer too, out in the gorse paddock, close to the goat house- cum-chicken run enjoying the lush grass. So proud was Mabel that she had to come and tell me all about it, Lucifer on the other hand realised that something was up so he dove back under the fence into the enclosure. My heart swelled with love for this little guy, he knew he was safe in there. Of course my heart always swells for Mabel when I see her walking towards me or calling out to me, albeit for food. Perhaps that's the driving force behind my animals' happiness to see me but hey, when there's no food on offer and they still hang around I like to think it is for the company!
So I picked up little Miss Mabel with a huge bloated tummy and reunited her with Lucifer. His eye is back to normal again thank goodness, it is horrible seeing your favourite companions with health problems. They spent the rest of the day laying on the safe side of the fence chewing their cud and generally enjoying life.
Sheamus came out for a wander, we went for a wander around the perimeter of the paddock which was horse free, no pesky ginger pony to stalk him. When we reached the drain he stopped and made a wallow for himself. The drain collects all the run off water from the paddocks from the neighbours it flows contantly in winter but tends to be boggy in spring and summer. Sheamus was delighted to find this natural treasure, his powerful snout turned over the weeds and grass and dug around in the mud, then he flopped himself down and made noises of utter bliss. I left him basking the the sun and walked to the top of the gorse paddock. Yikes, the gorse has really gone crazy this year, I'm going to dedicate a bit of time to cutting it down. It would only take a full weekend with loppers and a chainsaw.
I took to the horses to the grass verge out the front of the property to their taped area and carted up some water. Then I heard a mischevious 'maaaaaa' which is Mabel's catchword, emitted in several different tones I can often tell when she's up to no good or in dire straits or just plain contented and today it was a 'maaaa [look where I am!]'.
There they were, not just Mabel but Lucifer too, out in the gorse paddock, close to the goat house- cum-chicken run enjoying the lush grass. So proud was Mabel that she had to come and tell me all about it, Lucifer on the other hand realised that something was up so he dove back under the fence into the enclosure. My heart swelled with love for this little guy, he knew he was safe in there. Of course my heart always swells for Mabel when I see her walking towards me or calling out to me, albeit for food. Perhaps that's the driving force behind my animals' happiness to see me but hey, when there's no food on offer and they still hang around I like to think it is for the company!
So I picked up little Miss Mabel with a huge bloated tummy and reunited her with Lucifer. His eye is back to normal again thank goodness, it is horrible seeing your favourite companions with health problems. They spent the rest of the day laying on the safe side of the fence chewing their cud and generally enjoying life.
Sheamus came out for a wander, we went for a wander around the perimeter of the paddock which was horse free, no pesky ginger pony to stalk him. When we reached the drain he stopped and made a wallow for himself. The drain collects all the run off water from the paddocks from the neighbours it flows contantly in winter but tends to be boggy in spring and summer. Sheamus was delighted to find this natural treasure, his powerful snout turned over the weeds and grass and dug around in the mud, then he flopped himself down and made noises of utter bliss. I left him basking the the sun and walked to the top of the gorse paddock. Yikes, the gorse has really gone crazy this year, I'm going to dedicate a bit of time to cutting it down. It would only take a full weekend with loppers and a chainsaw.
Sorry for the lack of commitment!
Oh dear, my commitment to this blog has been lacking a little hasn't it? I have so much to update you on, I will update it and backdate the entries so that they appear correct chronologically.
Today I had a great morning (after such a disaster of a weekend). I completed the morning feeds in record time, with my faithful assistant Sheamus. We've formed a real bond and I feel he is privy enough in the lay of the land to come out for little wanders with me regularly now. He has his favourite spots to visit such as the plateau in the bush paddock, the long patch of grass on the hill in the moonlight paddock and beside the drain by the vege patch. I'm so glad I used the 'shakey tin' from day one, if you haven't heard about the shakey tin is is basically a lidded metal tin containing some pebbles, I shook it before every feeding time for the first week. He didn't have a name he knew when he came to live with us so until he learned his name I thought it would be good for him to have something he could associate with. Now, as soon as Sheamus hears me shaking the tin he comes running, he gets rewarded with a scratch behind the ears or if it is feeding time he'll go into his enclosure and be fed. I use the tin very rarely though because he now knows his name and the tones in which I use his name he often comes when called. We're quite strict about feeding, he only gets fed in his enclosure from his designated bucket and occasionally Sam will hand feed him but he has to sit before the food is given to him (dropped on the ground, not placed in his mouth) and our reasoning behind this is that he is an extremely heavy and strong animal that could bowl over anyone with enthusiasm. So we make sure that we show him love by spending time with him, scratching him behind the ears, on his back, tummy etc, cuddles and lots of talking, he loves to be talked to. He rewards my affections with contented grunts, following me around like my shadow and generally being great company. He is quite independent at timesbut seems to fret when he is out and about and can't see us. I hope that in time he'll be able to stay out a lot more but that means we need to make some Sheamus free zones such as near any rubbish bins or boxes that might possibly contain delicious morsels but 99% of the time don't.
Today I had a great morning (after such a disaster of a weekend). I completed the morning feeds in record time, with my faithful assistant Sheamus. We've formed a real bond and I feel he is privy enough in the lay of the land to come out for little wanders with me regularly now. He has his favourite spots to visit such as the plateau in the bush paddock, the long patch of grass on the hill in the moonlight paddock and beside the drain by the vege patch. I'm so glad I used the 'shakey tin' from day one, if you haven't heard about the shakey tin is is basically a lidded metal tin containing some pebbles, I shook it before every feeding time for the first week. He didn't have a name he knew when he came to live with us so until he learned his name I thought it would be good for him to have something he could associate with. Now, as soon as Sheamus hears me shaking the tin he comes running, he gets rewarded with a scratch behind the ears or if it is feeding time he'll go into his enclosure and be fed. I use the tin very rarely though because he now knows his name and the tones in which I use his name he often comes when called. We're quite strict about feeding, he only gets fed in his enclosure from his designated bucket and occasionally Sam will hand feed him but he has to sit before the food is given to him (dropped on the ground, not placed in his mouth) and our reasoning behind this is that he is an extremely heavy and strong animal that could bowl over anyone with enthusiasm. So we make sure that we show him love by spending time with him, scratching him behind the ears, on his back, tummy etc, cuddles and lots of talking, he loves to be talked to. He rewards my affections with contented grunts, following me around like my shadow and generally being great company. He is quite independent at timesbut seems to fret when he is out and about and can't see us. I hope that in time he'll be able to stay out a lot more but that means we need to make some Sheamus free zones such as near any rubbish bins or boxes that might possibly contain delicious morsels but 99% of the time don't.
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