SOHO SNIPPET

 THE latest buzz on my would-be beekeeping activities is that I've now ordered a colony of bees which should be ready for collection mid-June ... I nervously await the new arrivals and hope we all get along very nicely. I'm assured the colony is good natured (how do they know?)

TO PEE OR NOT TO PEE

 ..Or how to outfox predators

LIVING well beyond the Wilds of Wanney* requires a degree of forward planning especially when it comes to stocking up on basic food provisions since the nearest shop is a 30 minute drive away.
 I ran out of bread the other day and rather than put on my glad rags and some war paint (I still can't leave the house without make-up) I opted to make a loaf and very nice it was too as you can see in the picture on the left. While the dough was rising I went and did some online supermarket shopping booking a delivery service for the next day.

USING MY LOAF : Here's one 

I made earlier

 So apart from brief encounters with the postie and the odd courier who braves the goose patrol and the turkeys, I rarely see anyone in these parts to pass the time of day until the supermarket delivery man arrives. Unloading up to a month's worth of groceries naturally involves quite a bit of time and an opportunity for small talk on the progress of my ever-expanding menagerie.
 First of all he was delighted to see my two bee hives - turns out he had his own apiary for six years but lost all his stock to a nasty bug two years back and threw in the towel. Drawing on his invaluable experience I told him about the angst between me and he-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is over the exact siting of our apiary. Hives should be positioned in the south so they get the full force of the sun (when it bothers to show itself) which we kind of knew but still couldn't agree on an exact spot. The delivery man went outside for a wander and found the perfect patch of land which pleased us both. I told him I was waiting for my bee colonies and was thinking of ordering some Welsh bees but he said they were bad tempered! Making a mental note of that invaluable tip I then regaled him with the tale of our turkey and geese losses courtesy of fox and badger raids. Turns out he keeps birds as well and proudly boasted: "I've never lost any to the fox." So I asked him what was his secret.

                          CONSPIRACY

SCENTING TROUBLE: But will he 

step up to the plate? A dilemma for

he-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is

 He looked around in a conspiratorial manner and as he handed over the bag containing the frozen food he said in a hushed tone: "I pee. I pee first thing in the morning, when no one's about. I walk down to my back garden and I pee all over the place. Foxes do not like the scent of my pee - actually any man's pee. I think it's the strong ammonia content but it must be first thing in the morning.
 "Your pee won't work because of hormones and let's face it, it's easier for a man to wander around and spray the garden. Get your husband to do the same and if he's shy then he can always pee in a bottle and then distribute the water. I'm telling you wild animals do not like human scent and so they clear off."
 And then, without missing a heartbeat he said in a very matter-of-a-fact tone: "There's a couple of samples in there for you," as he handed me another plastic shopping bag. Imagine my relief on finding it contained nothing more than a free deodorant stick and a mini tube of toothpaste.
 He then held out a little box for my digital signature and with that he was gone.
 Talk about putting the super into supermarket.
 Those snippets of invaluable information simply can not be gleaned down any shopping aisle.
 I have to admit, on reflection, when I lived in Soho - which did smell like a giant urinal some Saturday mornings - I never saw a single fox although there are thought to be around 10,000 urban ones living in the English capital.
 Watch this space..

 *'The Wilds of Wanney' is a Geordie term used by we Northerners to refer to the rural areas of Northumberland where the River Wansbeck flows.

BEEHIVE AND BE PATIENT

.. Or calm down!

THERE'S a great buzz in the air as we prepare for the latest additions to our accidental farm - we've all been on a training course to learn how to handle these tricky new arrivals ... except they've not made an appearance yet.
 I could bring some stock over the Border from the southern counties but let's face it, soft southerners take months to acclimatise to the weather up North and some just simply don't survive life beyond the Watford Gap.
 My other half has spent so many years in London that it took months before his North African Berber genes kicked on (yes, I married a Barbarian).

FULL OF BUSY: A worker bee

 The weather for the last two years has admittedly been appalling in Scotland and add to that a nasty little bug called the Varroa Mite and a raging controversy over the use of pesticides it's no wonder that Britain's best workers are simply dying off.
 I am of course talking about the amazing honey bee, pictured right. Within weeks of arriving in Scotland I joined the Caddonfoot Beekeepers Association and the British Bee Keepers Association (BBKA) and managed to annoy everyone with my 'rush-about townie' attitude.

DAISY & TOM: Novice 

beekeepers-in-waiting

 'I thought I'd start beekeeping and want to know where I can buy hives and I want to set up by the end of next week,' I said as my opening introduction to a man from Caddonfoot. There was a deafening silence on the line lasting around 10 seconds and then I was told things don't work that way when it comes to bees.

 I interpreted this resistance to a touch of chauvinism but I couldn't have been more wrong. I was simply thundering along at a pace which simply just doesn't work in the countryside and, on reflection, he was probably gasping for breath wondering: 'Who is this incredibly stupid woman?'

 So, more than a year on I am now fully prepared, I think, to look after a colony or two of bees. Hubby and I have been on an excellent beginner's course in Cumbria at the delightful Greystoke Cycle Cafe: http://www.greystokecyclecafe.co.uk/Beekeeping.htm and myself, daughter Daisy and her friend Tom also had several hands-on lessons last year from a local beekeeper whose apiary is  on the outskirts of Edinburgh.

REHEARSALS: Anxious to  get

started I examine some frames

The next major obstacle was choosing a hive as there are many different makes in existence. As luck would have it a delightful lady beekeeper, retiring on the grounds of ill health, sold me her cream painted Smith hive which was designed by a Scottish beekeeper and  another, more dispirited soul, sold me his National  hive after losing  his entire colony of bees for the third year running because of inclement weather conditions.  And, I've also ordered an octagonal Warre hive although I have been advised - too late - that keeping three different types of hives will present problems in the future. Obviously I shall be sharing these with you in Soho 2 Silo 

HIVES: Smith (l) & National (r)

 and naturally I would appreciate any input, advice or feedback as I go along. Who knows, I may even have some honey at the end of all of this.

 So now I'm all set to go but unable to progress until I get some bees. I've asked around Caddonfoot and my name has gone on a waiting list but in the meantime I guess I'm going to have to cast my net wider to try and get at least a colony up and running.

 So if you are a beekeeper and you're reading this please get in touch if you can help and/or advise me from where I can get a colony of bees. I'm told the weather has been so bad generally that the beekeeping community north of the Border is already one month behind.

INVASION OF THE EGG SNATCHERS

 Another case for 'B' ... Jedburgh's CSI

RAT SNATCHERS: Painting by Igor Maykov

 AN INTRIGUING series of events has rather focussed our attention these last few days - every morning a part digested egg has been found in the rear yard. Two contained the fully formed embryos of what looked like tiny turkeys while another couple of crushed shells simply could've come out of the hen pen and contained nothing more than traces of yolk.

 Since I collect daily from the hens I ruled out foul play from the pen but wondered where else the hens eggs had come from and who was the culprit and where did the turkey ones come from? And even though I'm still reeling from the last badger visit, I knew Old Brock couldn't be blamed this time round purely because he wouldn't have left any evidence. A fox would've scoffed the turkey embryo while perhaps leaving a few fragments of shell. Then I remembered a story I'd been told a few weeks back, I thought it was an urban myth, but it is perfectly illustrated in the charming picture above right by Latvian artist Igor Maykov. There was nothing else to do I simply had to call in the countryside crime buster, Jedburgh's equivalent of CSI Miami's 'H' aka Horatio Caine. It's a wonder 'B' hasn't gone ex-directory as every other day there's seems to be a murder-style mystery to be solved on the farm but like most folk in the Scottish Borders he's happy to oblige when we struggling townies get out of our depth.

ANOTHER EMPTY EGG SHELL: But no trail or other
clues between it and the stable door in the background

 And so local gamekeeper 'B' duly arrived, surveyed the scene you can see on the right and scratched his head. He paced up and down and walked in and out of the stable several times - it was empty apart from the surrogate Turkey mum. I told him how I collected the hens eggs everyday and since the nesting boxes are all off the ground it would be too difficult for a rat raid, especially in broad daylight.

 He asked about the broody turkey and how many eggs she was sitting on. I told him I didn't know as they were due to hatch any day and she wouldn't let me near her. I told him that she had originally started sitting on her own eggs but I'd replaced them with pot eggs and then changed them to hens eggs. And then, when my other turkey was killed by the fox I'd transferred those eggs to her so she was sitting on a mixture of turkey and hen eggs. The penny dropped, sort of, as I said that.

SILENT WITNESS: The

surrogate turkey.

 Working out all the machinations 'B' said there were several scenarios but that all of the egg shells I'd found came from the same source ... underneath the turkey pictured above left. The real mystery is how they came to land 20 feet away in the yard.

 'B' reckons either several rats baited the turkey during the night and while one distracted her attention to leave the nest the others snatched an egg and rolled it away across the yard to eat. Or the turkey, herself, is separating dud or infertile eggs from the batch which are then being picked up by the opportunistic rodents.

RAT:  Charged, tried and found
guilty in absentia 

 Hens and turkeys will do this if they sense an egg is infertile or if there's something wrong with the developing chick inside. This could explain the near fully-formed eggs we found the other day. I do hope this doesn't mean all of the turkey eggs are duds after their courageous Bourbon Red mum paid the blood price for protecting her nest against a fox recently.

 Time will tell - as for the egg snatchers ... that's another mystery to solve. He-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is has some detective work of his own to do to track down and get rid of these pests.
 And wouldn't it be great if he set up a web cam or infrared night camera up in the yard to catch the thieves in action. There's a great deal going down here but sadly most of it happens when I'm fast asleep.

MISS MOODY GOES BROODY

HEN HOUSE: Now a hot house

for broody Josephine

.. But Josephine still rules the roost

 OF ALL my feathered stock I would say the most anti-social is Josephine. She's a gorgeous looking black Scots Dumpy I bought in Northampton along with my rather spectacular cockerel Napoleon in September last year.
 Dumpys are normally cuddly, social chooks with wonderful characters which is why Josephine's moody temperament stands out in the hen pen where, in terms of pecking order, she commands pole position.
 Basically no one challenges Josephine and the only other Dumpy to interact with her is Napoleon; the two are normally inseparable and always sleep in the same hen house (there are four abodes from which to choose) with him perching and her nesting in a corner.

HORATIO & MOODY JOSEPHINE: Used to
be inseparable

 Well something very interesting happened yesterday - she occupied the smallest, tallest hen house and refused to budge. It's a favourite laying spot for the rest of the hens who were becoming increasingly vocal at not being able to get access to lay their eggs. He-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is stuck his hand in to engage with her and is still nursing his right fore finger for the trouble ... proving that he is hen-pecked but not by me!

 Being more wary I lifted up the hatch and took a quick peek - she expanded her body by fluffing her feathers and made a really odd, throaty gurgling sound which sent me running for the poultry books. Having lost one hen to egg peritonitus I wanted to make sure she wasn't going down with something equally terminal. Mercifully Josephine is not ill but her hormones are rampaging ... more so than usual. According to the experts and my chicken manual she is displaying all the symptoms of a broody hen for this time of year.

 Now incase you didn't know, a broody hen is worth her weight in gold for a small holder like me but for professionals it's a nuisance and some simply dip their hormonal hens in a bucket of ice cold water in an attempt to cool down the poor creature and knock her off her cycle. I think that's rather cruel but I'm merely an amateur so will move on swiftly lest someone should accuse me of trying to teach hen veterans how to suck eggs.

EVICTED: Beryl & Ruby

 I returned to Josephine and gently picked her up - and what a surprise I got. Not only was her breast and abdomen hotter than Hades she was sitting on at least a dozen eggs. She must have simply hijacked a full nest, knocked out some of her own and has commandeered it for sole occupancy.
 Horatio is non too happy as he always slept there while Ruby and Beryl were regular occupants on the very high overhead perch. Now they've all had to find alternative accommodation until Josephine completes her broody cycle.
 Hens' eggs take around 21 days to hatch so it will be interesting to see if she stays the course. I'm also wondering, with some concern, if she will make a good mother given her mood swings when she's not broody.
 * Meanwhile the surrogate turkey mum is still sitting on a pile of eggs, including those belonging to the Bourbon Red who was snatched by a fox last week. She also makes the same throaty, gurgling sound if you get too near ... hope it's not catching!

COCKERELS PUT IN THE SIN BIN

RELUCTANT RUBY: Housebound

and egg bound 

.. Hens give troublesome trio the red card

 I'M STILL dithering about launching into a full breeding programme with the Scots Dumpys which will mean segregating the cockerels from the hens and then pairing up selected couples and building different pens.
 Once I do that when I incubate eggs I will have a rough idea of what is going to hatch whereas at the moment it's a bit of a pot-pourri. Serious breeders must be reading this with equal measures of disgust and horror, I've no doubt.
 So in the hen pen it's a bit of a free for all which causes its own problems as the hens just want to focus on laying eggs and chillin' and the cockerels want to do what they do.
 The result has been chaos so I've put Napoleon, Horatio and Jumpin' Jack in the poultry equivalent of the sin bin these last few days to give the girls a break and a chance to restore their ruffled feathers and dignity. Poor Ruby was egg bound last week, she was so stressed out she wouldn't leave her little blue home pictured above and to the right . I gave her a warm bath, 20 minute massage, copious amounts of top dollar virgin olive oil at both ends, and then steamed her bottom. After a quiet overnight stay in the kitchen she resumed normal service which was a relief - I really did not want to get out the rubber gloves! An egg block is potentially fatal.

WRONG SIDE OF THE WIRE: Jack, Horatio & Napoleon

 But it was one of those straw-breaking moments and so I decided my three cockerels would have to spend their days on the outside looking in. In the first instance it did create a sort of unity and adversity so old spats and rivalries were set aside while they stood staring and glaring at the indignity of being on the wrong side of the wire.
 Many poultry breeders are surprised that three of my 15 Scots Dumpys are cockerels and that they all live together in the same pen quite happily. Of course they do have their moments but in the pecking order of things Napoleon is the boss and he runs a disciplined outfit.
 Dumpys really are a lovely breed and they are very friendly, each one is a character. Quite why they've become an endangered species is beyond me.

TURKEY TRAGEDY FORCES RE-THINK

.. AS VIXEN STRIKES

  THE clumps of feathers told me all I needed to know.  It's happened again. Another tragedy and more loss of life but this time the villain was not a badger but a fox ... a vixen with hungry cubs to feed - and before all you townies go "aaaah, cute" with a bit of luck she will have carried out her last kill by dawn tomorrow.
 As regulars of Soho2Silo know, I'm still reeling from the badger attack which took out a goose and her entire clutch of eggs last week and while I agonised over what I could do about the turkey who chose to set up a secret nest near the hen pen (http://soho2silo.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/nature-or-nurture.html) I did nothing. I decided to leave it to Nature and now there are self-recriminations.

TELL TALE SIGNS: The clumps of feathers reveal tragedy

 The unfortunate goose from Sweden was called Queenie but my poor slain turkey didn't even have a name. She was one of the Three Degrees, a trio of Bourbon Reds I bought from a farm in North Yorkshire.
 In the meantime some dear friends bought me an incubator and while I was tempted to take the turkey's eggs hubby pleaded with me to let her continue and so she did until the early hours of this morning. And no, I'm not blaming he-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is and in truth he is just as upset as me at the loss of more stock because we are fond of them all.
 My bedroom overlooks the scene of the crime but since I have taken to going to bed listening to BBC Radio 4 on an evening to drown out the noise of the clog dancers who inhabit the attic (more about them another time) I heard nothing.
 This morning I called in my own CSI expert and he surveyed the scene for around half an hour and went off down a bankside leading on to a river. When he returned he gave me his assessment.
 The killer was a vixen who, judging from the clumps of feathers around the nest site, had struggled to rip the Bourbon Red turkey from her nest. He says it was a vixen because a dog fox would have eaten his kill just a few yards away but this fox took the bird all the way to her lair where she would have fed her waiting cubs.

SURROGATE MUM:  Bourbon Red turkey
sits on a variety of eggs due to hatch next week

 He followed the trail of feathers through the woodland and down to the riverside, then along to a small hump-backed bridge, over a road and into some more woodland. By all accounts my turkey must have put up one hell of a struggle because of the clumps of feathers at various points en route. Delicate paw marks also revealed the sex of the fox.
 And there's more - the gamekeeper reckons she will be back and, if wanted, he will be lying in wait. I nodded vigorously. Unlike badgers, foxes are not a protected species and, as any farmer will tell you, they are a pest and should be shot on sight. No time for sentiment. I am not going to lose any more of my animals if I can help it.
 As usual, where there is death there is also hope of life. The eggs were left intact and I gathered them all up and shoved them under a turkey which is nesting in the stable. Her own eggs are in the incubator and at the moment she is sitting on a couple of abandoned goose eggs and half a dozen chicken eggs as well as a pot egg.

NEST EGG: The start of another turkey nest

 I don't know if the eggs left behind by her sister  are still in a condition to hatch - only time will tell but whatever happens you will be among the first to know.
 And there's still more - the last of the Three Degrees has started laying eggs in her own secret nest very close to the house. The gamekeeper has advised that as soon as she starts sitting on her batch of eggs I should intervene and move them all into the stable where they will be safely locked up every evening. I am going to take his advice - at the moment I feel it is better to nurture rather than leave it to Nature.
 What do you think?

SILO SNIPPET

Red not dead..

HOORAY - or alhumdullilah as we Muslims say - today the red squirrel (pictured right) made an appearance after a couple of weeks absence.
 There's a mate around too ... can we expect the patter of tiny feet soon? Let's hope so.
 Be sure I'll have my camera ready!

A NEW RECRUIT

..And then there were four (ish)

 THE goose patrol has resumed its duties
and there's a new recruit as you can see from
this video to the right.
 The turkeys got a little too close for Jack's liking while the subversive sheep looked on rather bemused.
 We now need a name for this new addition but please bear in mind it's going to take some months before we establish the sex of the gosling.
 Please send your suggestions in the comment section - many thanks.

EVERY CLOUD

.. and hope still springs eternal

 THERE'S still an awful pall of gloom hanging in the air since the brutal demise of Swedish goose Queenie who steadfastly sat on a clutch of eggs through all weather in the hope of becoming a Mother Goose. Sadly, on the eve of them hatching, her plans were brought to an abrupt end by at least one badger.
 But there's little time to dwell on death in the countryside and yesterday I was given a timely reminder of the hope which springs eternal courtesy of a tiny little ball of yellowish fluff seen in the video.
 I'm not sure what name to give him/her - yes, I
know I shouldn't give my animals names or get too attached to them but I am an accidental farmer and didn't sign up for producing livestock without becoming emotionally involved.
 Farmers might seem a cold, detached  bunch but from some of the private messages I've received, following the death of Queenie, it seems there are a number of great big softies out there who genuinely share my pain.
 To lovingly raise livestock only to have them cut down in their prime by pests like badgers and foxes is extremely frustrating.
 However, now I have to focus on the living and Jack and Vera still have a few more eggs left to hatch though I'm not sure if they're duds. Interestingly enough, when they take junior out for a stroll Bluebell, another Swedish goose, sits on the remaining clutch.
 The whole Queenie episode has really distressed her because the incident probably reminded Bluebell about her own near-death experience caused by a group of wild mink several years back. Her then owner nursed her around the clock and miraculously she survived. Unable to mate and lay her own eggs she now seems to have assumed a matronly role and is more than happy to help out Jack and Vera.

'BADGER HATES SOCIETY, AND INVITATIONS, AND DINNER, AND ALL THAT SORT OF THING,' Kenneth Grahame

.. And I no longer like him either

LIKE millions of kids, I was brought up on the Wind in the Willows childrens' classic by Scottish writer Kenneth Grahame which probably explains my romantic notions of the furry creatures who inhabit our countryside.
 Well my love affair with Mr Badger has now officially ended, quite dramatically and in tears. He is the prime suspect in a brutal slaying, a silent, ruthless killing machine which shows no mercy.
 This morning I went to visit Queenie, a beautiful Swedish goose of mine who has sat patiently for nearly a month on a clutch of around 10 eggs - not only had she vanished but the eggs had disappeared as well.
 With my limited knowledge of the countryside, I ruled out Mr Fox. Had it been him there would have been a right kerfuffle, lots of feathers and smashed eggs. This was not the case but there were very few other clues at the crime scene.
 I was going to call the local constabulary thinking the culprit may be human but
before bringing in the Old Bill, I picked up the phone to consult Jedburgh's answer to CSI Miami's Horatio Caine. As you can see from the 25 second video above there was very little to go on in terms of culprits and clues.
 Yet without the benefit of all the hi-tech kit and glamorous staff on hand to assist Caine, my man in combats had the whole crime sussed in under 30 minutes.
 Confirming what we knew already - no nest disturbance or fighting at the crime scene - he went off to search the surrounding area.
 And from what he discovered he deduced poor Queenie had been seized by an opportunist badger who dragged her off to a lair about 200 yards away and then killed her. He took me to the hollow under a tree where there were a few tell tale grey and white feathers which resembled the ones Queenie once sported. Badgers have immensely powerful jaws and this one left no other trace of my beautiful goose, given to me as a gift by a very good friend. Had she been 'done in' by a fox there would've been traces of rib cage and other non-chewable bones and debris, said my forensic expert.

QUEENIE: Tragic end

 Badgers also find eggs hard to resist and the silent killer would have returned to the nest to then devour all of the eggs and their contents thereby leaving very little trace of what had happened. As a protected species these creatures polarise opinion. This lot absolutely love the nocturnal villain: http://www.beautifulbritain.co.uk/htm/wildlife_gardening/badger_facts.htm as do folk like me brought up on stories from the pages of Wind in the Willows. However living in the country, trying to rear animals, has completely revised my opinion of Mr Badger and now I find myself at one with most of the farming community.
 The badger who attacked Queenie not only robbed me of a beautiful pet goose but he - and his accomplices - also destroyed any chance for the next generation of geese and her chance to be a Mother Goose.
 Apparently badgers are opportunistic so it is likely a terrible coincidence that they set about her just as the eggs were due to hatch. But I feel very angry and helpless and wonder what I could've done to prevent this from happening. The answer, in short, is nothing if I want my animals to roam freely.

SILENT KILLER: Badger like this one

killed by goose

 Unless I keep the livestock under lock down 24/7 I suppose they will be a target for predators. I've spent so much time and effort focussing on Mr Fox that I hadn't taken in to account the badgers - there are more than 50 setts within a mile radius of where I live in the Scottish Borders so I now need to pit my wits against a totally new predator ... within the confines of the law, of course.
 Any suggestions would be most welcome.
                                                                                            

A HELPING HAND

..Or a hindrance

 What a rollercoaster day it has been and the dramas are continuing well into the night.
 Vera, my beautiful Toulouse goose proudly showed off a newly-hatched gosling early this morning and by noon there was another yellow fluffy ball beginning to emerge from one of the remaining nine eggs. See the short video clip below.
 'Nature not nurture', I thought to myself as I walked away but an hour later one of the goslings was dead and another was lying exhausted only half way out of its shell. Vera was clearly distressed and my presence near her makeshift nest was only making matters worse so I retreated.
 In the meantime I went to check on the turkeys and their own egg-laying saga - one has stayed out eight nights on the run now keeping a lonely vigil on her nest away from prying eyes ... although a previous posting reveals its secrets. The other turkey who is nesting has been sitting on her eggs in a stable for nearly as long, but I must confess I've been nicking her eggs and saving them for the new incubator which arrived a few days ago.

And just to make sure she's not distressed by the theft I replaced each delivery with a fake, pot egg. My other half pointed out that now she is sitting on a clutch of pot eggs it's rather cruel to let the deception continue indefinitely. His observations have really pricked my conscience and so I've now started replacing the pot eggs with those laid by my Scots Dumpys. Yes, yes, I know - it seems I'm using a shovel to dig myself into a deeper hole than the one I've already made.
'O, what a tangled web we weave when we practice to deceive,' wrote Scottish poet Sir Walter Scott. I wonder if he kept birds?
 Anyway I daren't think of the deep psychological damage I'm going to do when the turkey hatches hens' eggs and looks at her tiny offspring for the first time. Nor am I sure how wee chooks will react by a massive, big mum who looks nothing like them.
 And I've no idea what's in store for me tomorrow when I check Vera or if the little chappie in the film above will still be alive.
 It seems if I remain hands off then disaster could strike if the little gosling loses his struggle to get out of his shell but if I meddle with Nature then I could make things worse.
 Once again the thorny dilemma of Nature v Nurture looms large.


                                               

SILO SNIPPETS

AS BUSY AS A BEE..

 Fantastic day today - not only have the geese at least two new additions and we've heard our first cuckoo (see previous Silo Snippets) but hubby and I are now fully trained up learner bee keepers after an amazing two-day course here: http://www.greystokecyclecafe.co.uk/Beekeeping.htm
 Now we just have to decide what sort of hive we go for - we're both very excited, in fact you could say we're buzzin'
 Full update coming soon.

SILO SNIPPETS

The first cuckoo

AN EXCITING start to a great day began with the sound of the first cuckoo I've heard in the Borders. Now I just need to keep my eyes peeled for the dove-sized grey bird. Their population is in decline but let's hope this summer visitor manages to lay some eggs. The parasitic bird lays her eggs in the nests of other unsuspecting birds like the Dunnock of which there are plenty around here.

SILO SNIPPETS

Two new additions ... and counting

 Vera my Toulouse goose has hatched two goslings and there's still around eight more eggs to go - gander Jack is very excited and finally vindicated after there was a question mark placed over his virility when the expected hatch went past the due date on May 2.
 * Since this original posting one of the goslings died a few minutes later and another failed to make it out of his shell.

FEATHERS FLY IN FIRST CLASS DRAMA

.. Or the last post?

POSTIE'S DILEMMA: Geese & turkeys cause

a kerfuffle with the Royal Mail

 I BET Postman Pat never faced the challenges thrown at the heroic staff who run a first class delivery service in the Scottish Borders.
As you can see the picture on the right reveals a sorry tale of several failed attempts to deliver my letters because of the antics of Jack the Gander and some turbulent turkeys!
The regular Royal Mail male has learned to work around the birds delivering letters by stealth but when he took a week off I don't think his stand-in was prepared for the daily onslaught.
 Unlike most couriers who are ambushed after leaving their vehicles, it seems my turkeys and the geese launched a full frontal offensive before the new postie even had a chance to step out  the mail van. Quite wisely the occupant decided to return the next day and then the next day ... and as you can see from the labels on the envelope it became a daily mission impossible.
 Some couriers are not as conscientious as the employees of the Royal Mail and I've found parcels flung in various bushes and corners while the deliverer beats a hasty retreat from badass Jack and the rest of the bird crew. Suddenly the need to obtain a signature loses its importance in the face of a hostile Bourbon Red.
 While most of the UK's long-suffering posties have to contend with canine capers anyone heading down my drive way can expect an encounter of a different kind.
 Apart from the fact it's the mating season and the ganders and turkey stags are unusually aggressive there's also a great deal of tension in the air because any day now we're expecting the geese and turkey eggs to hatch. As most expectant mums can vouch, tempers do get frayed towards the end and female mammals are not the only ones affected by last minute nerves.
Now I have some good news and some bad news for the postal staff in this district - the good news is once Spring is sprung we can all resume a normal service. The bad news is if all eggs hatch then we could see an additional 20 geese and up to 15 turkeys roaming freely.
 * By the way, did I mention that I'm off on another training course this weekend ... for would-be bee keepers? I wonder how our delivery folk feel about winged honey-gatherers?