THE STORMS - Feb 2014

Nothing else to write about so this time I can talk about the storms, but the chances are that the rest of you have better storm stories than us!

Throughout the last few months I have been contacted by many of you kindly asking how we are coping with the floods/rain/winds/storms which have been forecast for or suffered by Wales.

We are well used to high winds/gales here blowing scarily across the peninsula and hurtling around the mountains, and up until last week, things stayed pretty much the same. No flooding or damage nearby, and the worst for us has been . . .

the Beast getting stuck in the mud and being towed out by the farmer with his tractor.

Otherwise, although we have had more than the usual amount of rain, our land is relatively dry. 

This is the deepest our stream became

Another stream running down the side of our path and our bog have remained dry

This is the most water we had in the lane

Further afield we have had fairly rough seas

which have unfortunately eroded away some of the coast line

But there has been a good selection of shells washed up on the local beach

Then came the violent storms of last week. We were hit by very scary hurricane force winds. Trees creaked and groaned all around us. Too dangerous to venture outside, we decided to light the log burner and stay inside, with power cuts threatening as the lights flashed off several times and the TV switched itself off with a pop.

Locally, thousands have had many days without electricity and the weather has left a trail of destruction in its wake with power lines and huge ancient trees scattered sadly around. But so far we have been lucky and come off quite lightly.

We were hoping for a few free logs around our property, but on inspection once the winds had died down we soon found that the most we had were a few twigs suitable for kindling.

The worst impact of the storm on us, was that the rubbish and recycling bins disappeared, with the contents last seen heading towards outer space. So Sandra Bullock if you see an empty Lynx shower gel bottle in real 3D hurtling towards you, you'd best watch out - it could be moving at hurricane force speed!

Next blog? I haven't a clue!

NOT THE STORMS - Feb 2014

So . . .  I was expecting to be writing about recent storms, but something got in the way AGAIN - goats AGAIN!

This is Stanley...

I have spent the past week chasing a lone Stanley off our land. I thought it strange that he wasn't with the rest of the herd. We rarely see a solitary goat.

Then today I spent an unsuccessful hour trying hard to keep him on our land. 

Why?

I was walking along the lane when I spotted a familiar sight in our garden - Stanley, who has clearly replaced Gladys, who, reading between the lines, is probably now somebody's Sunday lunch! I passed the neighbours adjoining field, and heard a strange noise which came from what appeared to be a brown rabbit cowering near the fence. Thinking 'I didn't know rabbits made that noise', I looked again and realised it wasn't a rabbit but a tiny baby goat. It was separated from Stanley by our newly erected goat/sheep/rabbit proof fence.  

Assuming they were mother and baby, would explain why a lone Stanley kept reappearing in our garden - to get to her baby. But if that was the case, why did she go into the garden when the route through our field is clearly easier.

Anyhow, along with a neighbour, I tried to get the two reunited. My neighbour picked up the kid and put it over the small fence leading to our field, meanwhile, I tried to chase Stanley from our garden towards the bottom of the field where the baby kid was calling out. Daft Stanley ran up the field, so I had to retrace my steps & climb various paths & steps through the garden to beat her to the top of the field to stop her escaping onto the farmer's land. She then diverted and ran along our drive. I made a mad dash around the house to get to the gate first to send her back into the garden. Too late! She escaped by jumping the fence and ran up the lane in the wrong direction. To cut a longer story shorter, we located her and carried baby kid to her. But she kept running away from us. So we placed kid near a hedge and hid at a distance until Mum found baby and we left the two reunited.

 At the risk of sounding like Call the Midwife, Baby seemed very weak. I hope it's ok.

Next blog - The storms  . . . maybe?

THE GOATS & SHEEP . . . AGAIN! - Feb 2014

We have suffered the consequences of becoming complacent. 

Over the best part of the summer & autumn we have had few, if any encounters with the goats and sheep. We had made the assumption that Will had repaired the surrounding fences so well that the sheep could no longer get onto our land . . . WRONG!!

We had also assumed that when the goats came down the mountain for winter, presumably because vegetation up there becomes sparse while the lower land is still lush, that they were no longer interested in travelling in mass through land where people now belonged for fear they would be chased away . . . WRONG AGAIN!! 


 So, who came trip-trapping into MY field?

When I was young I loved listening to the story about the Three Billy Goats Gruff, but how I hated That Troll. Each time I heard the story, an image of That Troll appeared in my mind. The most frightening, hideous monster I could conjure up. How I loved it when the goats won! How things have changed. I am now on the side of That Troll. 

In fact . . . I AM that Troll!

Now, meet Gladys the sheep . . . 

We know she is called Gladys because she has a (somewhat faded now) 'G' tattooed on her back!!

A few weeks ago Gladys started to appear in our field, until she was there on a daily basis from before we awoke each morning. This increased to twice a day when she returned for an afternoon nibble having been chased out during the morning.

This increased yet again when she took to returning to the field as soon as our backs were turned.

We have searched the fence for holes, low bits, climbable bits, but we can find nothing. We have no idea at all how she gets in. We know how she gets out. The same route every time over an old ruined wall and into her field. She cannot return this way as it is too high on her side.

Then . . . I discovered a whole herd of goats right outside the conservatory nibbling what looked like very unappetising twigs, bark and my scrappy looking plants.

Now this may not look appetising to us, but this is the attempt at a bog which is fast becoming a compost pit. Scattered around it are some juicy vegetable peelings. 

I was of the opinion that goats ate anything. Not true! they choose to skirt around the juicy vegetable peelings and eat the bark from trees which I am trying desperately hard to grow

At least they have left the budding daffodils alone

I gave chase. I chased them up the bank and along the path . . .

where they decided to separate,

two into the farmer's field, the rest into our field . . .

where they divided again, some to my left and some onto the drive . . .

Let me tell you Julie Andrews - I do not believe there is such a thing as a 'Lonely Goatherd' in existence. Trying to herd a load of goats in one mass is near impossible. They don't all follow the leader in the way sheep do. Oh no . . . they are far more cunning. They keep dividing into smaller groups so one lone person herding has NO chance. 
So Mr Lonely Goatherd, I reckon you weren't so lonely and had a pal of some sort, or a dog up on those mountains to help you out.

Having decided that herding goats is not a job for one person, I yodelled for Will's support. 

The goats in the field ran back up to the top of our field

and down our field

and into a scrum where they discussed the best annoying option 

They led us a merry dance until eventually they climbed over a wall into the neighbouring field

And if you have never heard a wild goat, they don't bleat like sheep. No, they have a very mocking type of laugh "heh heh heh". They jeer at us, as if to say "Heh heh heh, I'm up here - can't catch me. heh heh heh!" "Heh heh heh - Now you're up there, I'm down here, Heh heh heh!"

We were pleased to see that when the remainder ran into a newly fenced off area, they wouldn't/couldn't jump over the fence! (Could we be winning???). So they squeezed past us as at great speed . . .

up the side of the house . . .

and out of the gate at last . . .

leaving an extremely pungent aroma behind them!


If I haven't lost weight on my scales tomorrow morning I'll be sorely miffed!




Next blog - The storms