I HAVE just had yard kill for my supper. Not quite as bizaree as eating road kill, but close.
In this case the victim was not the outcome of being hit by a car, but bit by a sheepdog. Fizz (pictured below).
It is quite a few weeks since she was last a little too eager in her attempts to round up the chickens. Part of her nature I suppose.
Fizz was making quite valiant attempts to round up the ducks in the autumn until John intervened and shepherded all the Aylesburys into a freezer.
So you could argue that his planned outcome was the same as Fizz’s unintentional mishap with a hen.
Whatever; you can’t look a gift horse in the mouth, or in this case a chicken in its beak.
The hen had expired after Fizz’s attempts to give it a quick nip to hurry it back to the hen house. This degenerated into a fast journey off to hen heaven.
I plucked the hen whilst it was still warm, easy peasy in that state, and took the breasts off for a quick pan fry.
Waste not want not.
Fizz was less supervised than usual because John is up in Scotland with a few friends fishing.
Last time there was too much water, this time, not enough. The excuses he comes up with for not catching anything.
His brother Geoff is coming in to help with the heavy feeding round jobs for cattle and sheep.
I am in charge of keeping an eye on everything in case of an early lambing or late calving and late night walks round the cattle yards.
I take the dogs for a couple of long walks each day down the fields, but in-between I do not like them to be shut up in their kennel runs and so let them have the run of the farmyard. Bad idea today.
Tomorrow they can stay in the garden at the back of the house as it is secure and the hens cannot get in, or the dogs out.
The hard frost each morning prior to John’s fishing break meant that he was able to drive on the land to top dress the oil seed rape.
Having ground hard enough to travel without creating deep wheelings in the fields has been a rare occurrence this year.
Soggy fields have been the norm. But there are signs that the ground is starting to dry up.
John is hopeful on his return that he can make a start on drilling a spring crop by getting into the forty acre field he ploughed out last back end and left fallow.
The oil seed rape field remains a tremendous draw to pigeons.
A windy night left our deterrent terror kite in a sorry state. It had been torn off its 20ft pole and tangled in a tree.
No chance of the reflective hawk eyes and dip and recover motion to scare off the birds when it is dangling emasculated in the tree top.
And can stay there too till John gets back.
Mrs Downs Diary