HIVE BEETLES: We hate them, yeah, yeah, yeah!

Tartan terror alert as beekeepers call for a 12-month import ban

 BEEKEEPERS across Europe have been vigilant ever since being warned that a deadly pest called the Small Hive Beetle could launch an attack.

 It's a nasty little beetle originating from Africa which has laid waste to hives across America and Australia and with news it arrived in South West Italy, the Scottish Beekeepers Association is demanding urgent action by the Scottish Government.

SIZE DOESN'T MATTER: An ordinary worker bee 

towers over an adult beetle

A few days ago a letter was sent to the Edinburgh-based government demanding an end to the trade in live bees for atleast the whole of 2015 with the request: "The SBA urges that all possible measures are taken to prevent the introduction of small hive beetle into the UK. These should include a cessation of trade in live bees from the rest of Europe for 2015 until the true spread of the pest is better known."

 The first sighting of the beetle was made on September 11 this year by  the Italian Istituto Zooprofilattico Sperimentale delle Venezie, and then a second outbreak was confirmed in Rosarno, approximately 1 km from the first infested apiary in the south west. In this outbreak, four colonies were found to be infested. Since then further infested apiaries have been confirmed. 

 Since the beetles discovery, urgent measures are now underway to measure the extent of the outbreak, complete tracings (sales and movements of bees from the area), with the intention to eradicate and control spread in line with EU legislation and safeguards. Measures include that in all apiaries where the beetle is found colonies are destroyed and all soil surrounding the hives in the apiaries is ploughed in and treated with a soil drench. 

 In recent years there has been a substantial level of imports of package bees and queens from Italy into the UK. Where you get your bees from can be a touchy subject and I was midly admonished recently by a local beekeeper in the Scottish Borders for not sourcing my bees locally.

BEASTLY BUG: Small hive beetle is a major pest

outside of its native sub-Saharan Africa.

 From the seven hives I have my bees have come from mainly Northern England, a couple from the Borders plus two colonies of black bees originating from Wales. I'm keeping a close eye on all of them which is not too easy in this freezing cold weather but they seem unscathed so far.

 The beetle is a native to sub-Saharan Africa and is regarded by beekeepers over there as only a minor pest of weak honeybee colonies and stored honey supers. 
 However, European bees have fewer natural defences against  this overseas invader and consequently it has far greater harmful consequences to European honey bees. 
 The bug's larvae tunnel through honeyombs and cappings, eating and destroying them often causing the honey to ferment which gives off an orange-like odour. In vest heavy infestations the bees usually abandon the hive.
 The adult bettle can live for upto six months before its presence becomes obvious. The female is a prolific egg layer and she usually puts her brood in cracks and crevices within te hive. When the larvae emerges that's when the real devastation is caused. Then, before pupating, they leave the hive and bury themselves in the ground nearby.

INFESTATION: These larvae present a deadly problem

 It was confirmed for the first time outside Africa in Florida USA, in May 1998, and since then has become widespread across the USA (in more than 30 US states and as far North as Minnesota) and even on the island of Hawaii. The beetle was later detected in New South Wales and Queensland in Australia in October 2002 and more recently in Canada (traced to imports of unrefined wax from Texas, USA). 
 The beetle is also present in Mexico, Cuba and Jamaica. Of concern also is the fact that in October 2004 SHB larvae were identified in a consignment of queen bees imported into Portugal from Texas, demonstrating the potential for transport in  this commodity. 
 Since the beetle is considered the next big threat to honeybee colonies in the UK it is not surprising that the Scottish Beekeepers Assocaition - of which I am a member - wants to take this hardline by banning all imports for the next 12 months.
 Although I am happy with the performance and quality of my seven colonies, I will review my policy next year for introducing new colonies and queens when the need arises. For the time being I will stick with Scottish bees and, in particular, colonies sourced from the Border region.

SILO SNIPPET

 NEW FOX ALERT: Three of my Norfolk Bronze turkeys, two hens and a stag, have gone missing. I heard a bit of a kerfuffle around 3.45pm today and saw my white pheasant take flight. He was screeching mid air before landing safely in a sycamore tree. As I scanned around I saw a fox about 40 yards away. I stared at him staring at me staring at him for around a full 10 minutes before he turned tail and disappeared. I could swear he was grinning. It's now pitch black at 5pm and I'll have to wait until daybreak to see if the turkeys return.

RED FOXES DOWN

... but the battle continues

BEAUTIFUL but deadly and a pest

 WHEN I first moved to the Borders it gave me great pleasure to tell the huntsman in charge of the Jed Forest Hounds to clear off my land.
 It's not that I was anti-fox hunting, it's just that I've always associated such hunts with the wealthy land owners and the boss class and there was no way I wanted to host a load of posh, upper class nobs charging by on their steeds,
 In addition, as the working class daughter of a coal miner it gave me great pleasure to tell the toffs to take a hike.
 Now, I'm afraid I've had to eat humble pie and recently went cap in hand to the local huntsman (thank goodness the one I originally told to clear off, quit last year) about my fox problem. However, I said while I'm happy to host the dogs I still didn't want the entire hunt charging through.
 I was desperate ... I've lost so much livestock over the last two years and the death toll is in excess of 40 birds ranging from geese, turkeys, peafowl, pheasants, quail, hens and doves - plus one of my farm cats is minus a tail.

LOOKING FOR A MATE: This is the breeding season for foxes

 I've had men with guns patrolling the land, legal traps have been set and I've even persuaded hubby and his pals to go pee around the boundaries of the land as I was told male human urine gives off a warning scent to deter predators.
 One of my blog readers even suggested I try and get some big game poo from a zoo as her uncle in Holland scattered it around his smallholding to deter foxes and she swears it worked. I wrote to Edinburgh Zoo offering money for sackfuls of tiger and lion manure but they were having none of it, despite my pleas for their 'big cat SH one T!' Apparently they burn it.
 On someone else's advice I even invested in a flock of Guineau Fowl - more on them later - to act as early warning sirens should a fox pass by.
 Sadly none of these desperate measures worked so you can see why I went to the local hunt begging for help.
 Anyway, the good news is the Jed Forest crew got two foxes earlier this month. I was delighted. The bad news is I got a call to say two more have been sighted in the area which blows a hole in the theory that foxes are lone predators with their own territory.
 We suspected two were at work because of the way in which the hens and doves were disappeared but I had no idea that four were hanging around - and even worse, it's the mating season so the damned animals are travelling for miles to hook up and mate!
 Here's hoping for more 'good' news soon ... watch this space.

SILO SNIPPET

FOX NEWS: No, not the dreadful news channel but some really interesting news, well for me anyway.  I may soon have an update on the fox which has made my life a complete misery these last couple of years ... but seeking some corroboration first. Watch this space ..

Busted! The goose is cooked..

Christmas is coming and Bluebell is getting fat ... again!

 REGULAR readers know that Bluebell the goose has been on a fat busting diet after becoming so overweight she was unable to stand.
 At first we thought she was paralysed and had fallen ill; we even feared whatever it was would be terminal and we'd lose one of the favourite characters on our little farm in the Borders.
 Well her previous owner told us that she was a victim of her own gluttony and so we put her on a strict diet. To our amazement the loss of weight gave Bluebell the power to stand on her own two feet again ... literally.

FEATHERED FELON: Bluebell's caught red-handed stealing 

corn from the bin

 However a couple of weeks ago she had another relapse and was immobile again for a few of days. I was mystified because we'd kept her off the corn, bread and other tasty tidbits so as far as I was aware she was relying on grass and water to sustain her.
 The mystery was solved yesterday when I went to collect some wood near the animal feed bins, as you can see from the picture on the right.

GOTCHA! The game is up ..

 Greedy Bluebell's been nicking corn from the bucket while sneaking away from her companions, Toulouse geese Jack and Vera, who have also been put on a grass and water diet.

 Her greedy caper solved another mystery as I thought overnight winds were blowing the lid off the corn bin. It never occurred to me, until she was busted, that Bluebell had embarked on a life of crime. I wonder if she'll 'fess up to Jack and Vera who were put on the same harsh diet to give their fat friend some moral support.

O ye'll tak' the high road, and oil tak' the low road

.. And oil be in Scotlan' afore ye*

 I HAVE spent two winters in the Scottish Borders without central heating. Yes, it was tough but my working class roots got me through it although most of our visitors rarely stayed more than a couple of days before heading off to their centrally heated homes.
 People still think I'm pulling their leg when talking of the brick outhouse in the back yard, the pottie under the bed, snapping off icicles INSIDE the bedroom window and huddling around a coal fire ... but I digress.
 Since hubby spent much of his time in his restaurant in London he too had no idea what it was like to live day in, day out without the turn on, turn off warmth given by the flick of a switch.
 He finally swung into action when I said I wanted to go green and get a bio-mass boiler - but after being presented with an estimate of £40k he-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is suddenly morphed into Action Man. Not only did he restore the old boiler but he installed underfloor heating in most of the house and after shivering through two winters I suddenly had warmth from a source of heat many of us take for granted.

HIGHWAY TO HELL? Oil company claimed the trees 

presented a health & safety hazard

 However, all of that was threatened at the beginning of October when I started ringing around for some oil when prices were quite low. After doing a deal with a firm in Middlesbrough I waited and waited for the oil delivery as the tank was running low and there was no way I wanted to go through a third winter without heat.
 On the day the tanker should have arrived I was away but since putting oil into a tank isn't rocket science I thought the delivery driver would've just done what he was paid to do. After a few days I checked the level of the oil tank and realised the oil had not been delivered.
 I then called the oil company and was told the driver had been unable to access the drive. Realising he'd tried the back entrance (think Chieftain tank or Humvee for access) I called back and pointed this out wondering outloud why the silly man hadn't just called my mobile and then I could've pointed out there was a main entrance. The fact that the company sat on my fuel payment for more than a week without alerting me is disconcerting in itself.
 Assured the oil would be delivered I left it for another couple of days - bearing in mind a payment for 1000 litres of oil had already been made - and then a week passed. I noticed the oil tank was running dangerously low and so I called the oil company again. This time a man there assured me he would sort it out and get back - within minutes he was back on the phone quoting Health & Safety at me and saying the driver could not risk getting through.
 I pointed out the driver was a fool and that there are two entrances but this man was having none of it and so I asked to be reimbursed ... that process is taking nearly as long as well. It seems this company, which I will name and shame in my next blog if the money is still outstanding, can't deliver anything judging from my own experience!

FUSS, WHAT FUSS: Unsung hero Graham

is a man who delivers

 So I then began the process of calling around alternative oil companies only to discover that most of them used the same distribution service where the same driver worked. In short my address was being blacklisted as undeliverable unless I cut back on my trees.
 In recent weeks, because we are in the middle of renovations, I've had all manner of articulated lorries, trucks, delivery vehicles beating a path to my door without so much as a complaint ... other than being ambushed by the geese and turkeys.
 After paying considerably more for the oil now that winter is round the corner, I found a company in London called Speedy Fuels which pledged to deliver and they too called me back saying the distribution company they used pointed out access down by driveway is impossible. I told her the tale I've just told you and the very tenacious Jade promised she would get me my oil.

OIL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL: Graham

packs up his gear after successful delivery

FIRST CLASS SERVICE: A big
high five to Highland Fuels

 A woman of her word, yesterday a man called Graham from Highland Fuels came to deliver the 1000 litres of oil. He was given a welcome probably more fitting for the timely arrival of The Cavalry had they rocked up during the Battle of the Little Bighorn to help out Custer and his depleted 7th regiment. Anyway you get the picture, suffice to say Graham was overwhelmed by fuss and when I told him the story he merely shrugged his shoulders and said coming through the driveway was "No big deal."
 Now I have oil and all I can say to the weather is: "Bring it on."

* The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond is a well known traditional Scottish song, usually played after a night of revelry, and was first sung in 1841. Here's a rendition. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjZBlgylqFw

Another fox attack & another massacre

Demise of doves signals all out war..

DOVES settling in to their new home

A FEW weeks back I took possession of around 15 pure white doves from a farmer near the beautiful County Durham village of Wolsingham after my Indian fantails were picked off one by one by a pair of Peregrine Falcons nesting nearby. This time round would be better as hubby had set up a purpose-built apiary in which to allow the birds to acclimatise to their surroundings and become a bit more hawk savvy than their unfortunate predecessors. After placing the doves inside I then went off to get some corn and returned just in time to see the last bird escape through a hole and fly off! A few days later the bemused and amused farmer called me to say the birds had returned to him.

 We secure the aviary and set off again to collect the birds and this time, without an escape route, they seemed to settle in to their new home very quickly. We had placed a wooden dovecot inside the apiary and they seemed more than content to fly around safely without being targetted by any hawks or falcons in the area.

DIRTY DIGGER: Fox burrowed

under the gate entrance

 All was going well and we decided to move the wooden dovecots plus birds nearer to our home since they would have adjusted to their surroundings and lost their homing instincts to head for Wolsingham on release. Having spotted and heard the familiar screech of the occasional hawk, I was also hoping the birds would have become more cautious when birds of prey were out and about. Sadly, the next day, there was no such release for what greeted hubby was a load of white feathers, dove carcasses and blood ... the fox (almost certainly the same one who had burrowed under the henpen) had returned.  I could kick myself. I really never thought the fox would go for the doves since they were all perched high up in the apiary and some were already nesting in the dovecots.

EMPTY: But the remaining 

feathers tell the tale

 As for the fox if it wasn't already war it is now. I will not rest until he is finished off. Quite why the birds had not remained inside their dovecots or aloft on the rooftop rafters is beyond me, but the fox appears to have had a feeding frenzy taking out all but one of the occupants. The sole survivor, pictured above is now named Hope as in 'hope in adversity'. He or she has been put in a small cage and is residing in the courtyard until I know what to do.

 Yes, I do feel responsible because I had underestimated the ability of the fox and while he was doing what predators do I am determined this was his last kill ... at my expense anyway.

 My man with a gun has spotted him several times but so far he's been too quick. However I am told he appears to already have an old leg injury which may be the reason he is even more wily and wary than normal.

 Some legal traps have been set but sooner or later the game will be up for the fox which has, over the last 20 months, taken out two peahens, more than 20 chickens, nine turkeys, a pair of guineau fowl, one white pheasant, three quail, a pair of golden pheasant and 14 doves.

 Keeping my birds locked up in a stable all day is not an option, apart from being impractical I don't think it is kind or humane.

Goosey Goosey Gander, why can't you wander?

Bluebell's weighty dilemma

 I WAS in New Zealand when hubby called, clearly distraught, and said one of our geese was paralysed and unable to move ... it was Bluebell.
 The news horrified me on several different levels. First, I wondered what had happened that she had  become immobilised overnight and secondly how would I break the news to her previous owner who had already nursed Bluebell back to life from the brink of death.

SITTING DUCK! Bluebell in the background being guarded by

Jack & Vera, her companions.

 Bluebell is a Swedish goose and was part of a rare flock raised by a close friend of mine in the Scottish Borders. She sold the flock keeping back Queenie who had won first prize at The Highland Show for her outstanding features and she also retained Bluebell who had been savaged by a bunch of wild mink, a medium-sized member of the weasel family feralised from fur-farm stock in the 1950s.
 Bluebell was given round-the-clock care by my friend and after months of intensive nursing and love she survived the attack despite horrific internal injuries during the mauling. She is what you would call a walking miracle.
 My friend had to move away last year and so I agreed to foster both Queenie and Bluebell. Sadly a badger took Queenie who was sitting on a clutch of eggs in Spring 2013 and I was only able to break the news to my friend on her return to the Borders a few months ago. We were all very sad.
 How could I now tell her that Queenie was paralysed? Hubby said she wasn't in any kind of distress and so he continued to lift her out of her goose hut every morning putting her back on an evening until I returned home.
 She spent her days sitting in the safety of the courtyard because, unable to move, she was a sitting target for the unbiquitous fox who ripped through my henhouse with a savagery that still haunts.
 I decided against calling the vet in case the only option was to have her destroyed and so I phoned my friend and explained the situation. I told her Bluebell wasn't in any discomfort, hadn't lost her healthy appetitie and Jack & Vera, her companions, were guarding her as she would be vulnerable to a passing fox (and we all know about him, don't we?)

BEST FOOT FORWARD: A slimline Bluebell

back on her feet 

 She came over and after she was thoroughly checked over my friend turned around laughing and said: "She's not paralysed. She's too fat to walk. She has been over-eating and I've seen it in this breed before because they can easily put on weight and their legs just give way."

WHEELY TRIM: New look

 Still not entirely convinced, Bluebell was put on a diet along with Jack and Vera, who also seemed very heavy. Within two weeks Bluebell was back on her feet and seems none the worse for her experience.
 I've been feeding the geese a mixture of corn and layers mash and he-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is has stopped throwing them tasty tid bits.
Now the geese get a handful of corn and have to fend for
themselves the rest of the day which is why my lawn is looking nice and trim.
After a fairly miserable few months thanks to the antics of
the fox, at last a happy ending.


 

HEN PEN MASSACRE

..Fox leaves carnage in its wake

 TWO years of work raising an endangered breed of hen - Scots Dumpys - has been brought to an abrupt end overnight thanks to the ubiquitous fox who has stalked our small farm since the day we arrived.

POINT OF ENTRY & ESCAPE: The fox could've spent hours

may be even days or weeks picking away at the hicken wire

 As regulars know there has been a constant battle between Nature and nurture as I've tried to raise sheep, geese, hens and turkeys in as natural an environment as you can hope for. Now all that hard work has virtually been destroyed in a blood thirsty killing spree.
The fox managed to pick away at some chicken wire, I'm not sure if it took hours, days or even weeks, to gain entry into the hen pen where he set about killing off half the occupants including Napoleon, the black cockerel, and hubby's favourite hen Little Dorrit ... we've yet to find their bodies. The video below shows what I found but if you are squeamish don't watch it. The remains of those left behind included a Guineau Fowl, the forlorn Mr Bumbles who lost his mate Mrs Bumbles earlier this month.
 The agonising decision to keep them locked up inside the hen pen 24/7 was made after half a dozen hens disappeared last week when they failed to return from a day's foraging. A couple on horseback, who use our grounds for access, reported seeing the fox while out riding and expressed concern for the peafowl.
 It was then I decided to lock both the hens and the turkeys in the pen during daylight hours but now, until the hen pen is made secure, the surviving five Scots Dumpys will have to sleep with the turkeys in the stable. I'm heartbroken.

 Those of you who have shared the highs and lows of Soho2Silo know that I travelled extensively to build a solid breeding stock of Scots Dumpys drawn from the Isle of Wight, Manchester, Northampton, Cheshire. Many shared in my joy as the first chicks hatched and some sorrows as well as the ever present fox cast a shadow over the future of my birds.

MR BUMBLES: Already
heartbroken & now dead

 The survivors include Horatio and my little white Dumpy Thumberlina, one of the young black poults ... last week I was hoping it would turn out to be a hen but now I'm hoping it will be a cockerel just like Napoleon. The two surviving cuckoo coloured hens are my Isle of Wight birds Madge and Mildred.
 Familiar figures like Lady Gaga, Beryl, Ruby, Flopsy and Charlotte are no more.
 At the moment I'm still trying to process what has happened and can't even begin to think about anything just now other than how to get rid of that fox once and for all.
 The gloves are off and I know he will come back to try and take the remaining five. In the meantime I've decided to leave the dead birds lying where he slayed them because I know he will return tonight ... and I shall be waiting.

WHERE IS THE QUEEN?

..Behold, Sir*

QUEEN: Essential

to keeping order

 A FRIEND of ours is interested in beekeeping so we took him to the apiary the other day all suited and booted for a close inspection of the hives. As with all new comers the queen was the focus of interest and there's always fierce competition between me and hubby in spotting  Her Highess.
 All seven of our queens are clearly marked with coloured dots on their back usually reflecting the year of their birth ie. Green is for 2014 and Red is for those queens born in 2013, although two of our queens have yellow dots as their previous owner was colour blind and yellow made it easier for him to locate the queen in the hive.
 Despite the dot it can still be difficult to find the queen and our experience is that she usually hangs around the edge of the frame. He-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is was full of himself as he took the lead and inspected each frame and while we had a degree of success in locating each queen, when we came to one of the hives we simply could not find her.
 As we went through each hive I noticed the bees from one of the first hives we checked seemed to be in turmoil and after about 15 minutes were swirling around in a real bad mood. Suddenly hubby dropped his superior attitude and asked meekly: "Is that a queen, on me?" Our friend and I both looked and sure enough, scurrying across his face veil was a queen bee sporting a red dot.

YOU'VE BEEN FRAMED: Queens can be difficult to spot 

hence the reason most beekeepers mark Her Maj with a dot

 Quite clearly she had jumped on him during a frame inspection ... while he was coveting each frame he inspected before showing us what he had found, one must have brushed too closely too his chest forcing the queen to jump off and hitched a ride.

 Why she didn't fly off him and return to the hive is a mystery to me although I'm sure a more experienced keeper will give an explanation. Queens usually fly at least twice - once to mate and another to swarm and find a new hive to move the colony.
I'm just thankful he didn't squash her - some beekeepers have been known to drop the queen from a frame by accident, which is why frame inspection should always be done over the main body of the hive.

 For this very reason I don't clip the wings of queens although some beekeepers do to ensure she never flies off from the hive.
 The queen is essential for evoking a sense of well being and calm within the hive and she gives of a scent called pheremones to ensure order within the colony is kept. If she disappears her absence is quickly noticed and soon the usually hum of a hive can turn rapidly into a frenzied buzz.
 As we looked down the apiary it wasn't difficult to spot the queen-less colony as a mini revolution looked set to explode from Hive Number 2 and so we returned her and calm was soon restored.

* Act 5, Scene 2 Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare.

ANOTHER MID-SUMMER MYSTERY

BUMBLES MYSTERY: Mrs is in the foreground and the two

were inseperable

..Or, where is Mrs Bumbles?

 SOMETHING very curious has happened involving the arrival of a stranger and the disappearance of one of the hen pen's most industrious residents and I am beginning to wonder if the two are connected.

 The mystery centres on the most devoted couple Mr and Mrs Bumbles who usually go about their business together and are rarely seen apart.

On the odd occasions they've not returned to the hen pen they share with the Scots Dumpys, The Bumbles, a pair of Guineau Fowl, perch on a tree over-looking their home until the morning. They're extremely cautious and make one hell of a racket when startled so I've never been unduly worried that they'd fall victim to Mr Fox.

 Like officious little regimental sergeant majors, The Bumbles zoom around the place ignoring all other residents, including myself. Anyone who invades their space or gets to close is repelled by a noisy shrill clucking sound and their beautiful grey speckled feathers bristle, fluff up and flap.

 Native to Africa, they are known for traveling in large, gregarious flocks and were first introduced into Europe by 15th century Portuguese explorers. There are seven species of guinea fowl, of which the "helmeted pearl" is by far the most common, and certainly the weirdest looking, with their oddly shaped helmet, white, featherless face, bright red wattles, and gray polka-dotted feathers.

 Last week Mr Bumbles came home alone and I feared the worst until the next morning when he hurtled around the grounds making a muted squawking sound as if searching for his soul mate. If she had been nabbed by an intruder Mr Bumbles would have seen it happen and he would have made a racket loud enough to wake the dead; and I guess he would have moped around the next day but he really seemed to be looking for her.

 The next morning another Guineau Fowl appeared perched on a tree favoured by The Bumbles. I thought it was Mrs Bumbles until I noticed this one had white flashes across the wings and was indeed a male. The male species have flaps of scarlet red skin framing their faces whereas the hens don't. Where he came from or how he arrived at our small-holding is still a mystery but his arrival was treated with outrage and fury by Mr Bumbles as you can see from the 40-second video clip I made of the angry encounter a day or so ago.

HAPPIER DAYS: The Bumbles were 

once inseperable

 The stranger is still here, undeterred by a hostile Mr Bumbles but there is still no sign of Mrs B. I wonder if she has a nest somewhere as when I think about it, her little brown eggs have been absent of late. I'm hoping she has gone broody and made a secret nest although I would've thought she would have shared the location with her partner.  And he does seem lost at the moment as he wanders aimlessly around. I am beginning to miss their frenzied whistles, chirps and odd clicking noises.

 In the meantime I suspect this mystery will run for sometime - if anyone has any answers please drop a line and share your thoughts. And if you live in the Borders and are missing a male Guineau Fowl let me know.

SILO SNIPPET

 THE wasps nest is no more but sadly hubby sneaked out and destroyed it while I was busy elsewhere. I think he was nervous about being filmed and did not want to star in his own disaster movie - anyhow he says he squirted lighter fuel onto the nest & set it alight before the occupants inside could get out and get him. All sounds rather grizzly but who's going to shed a few tears over wasps? Certainly not me!

FEATHERS FLY

..As posh cats revert to type

SURVIVOR: Robin escapes jaws of the miffed 

Sheba in the background

 A YEAR ago I adopted two Rag Doll cats called Zenobia and Sheba and we have lived happily together indoors ever since.
When I received the cats, after being exhaustively interviewed to make sure I was a suitable foster mum by the Rag Doll rescue team in Scotland, I was warned both girls were indoor cats and had none of the usual instincts of outdoor cats.
 I was told in no uncertain terms never to let the cats step outside and until recently they've lead quite sedentary lives following the same diet and the same routine ... that is until he-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is started knocking down walls, doors and windows as part of a renovation.
 Far from causing distress and upsetting their quiet disposition, it appears he has unleashed in them a darker side previously unknown and certainly uncharacteristic in the breed.

BAD SPORT: Zenobia looks on with 

mild irritation at my intervention

 Any creature happening to attempt to set up home in the house has been pounced upon by Zenobia and Sheba who have revealed all the characteristics of streetwise, alley cats. They have hunted down their prey without mercy and indulged in all the cat-and-mouse antics of Tom & Jerry, but unlike the cartoon its the cats who get the upperhand here.
 For a period of nearly two weeks terrifying squeaks would interrupt our sleep and then we'd find tiny little mouse and shrew bodies lying by the bed. We did manage to release a few from the jaws of Sheba.
 The cats obviously treat the arrival of live animals as a blood sport and have not shown any desire to eat their prey, preferring instead a bowl of dried turkey food.
 The good news is the house is now a mouse-free zone but the bad news is the girls are now targetting birds which fly in through open windows and doors.
 Just this morning I managed to wrestle a small Robin out of Sheba's clutches much to her annoyance while Zenobia looked on with an expression of irritation at this unwelcome intervention.
 The Robin was lucky enough to survive the feline mauling and seemed none the worse for the experience when I released it outside.
 It is quite clear from their manner and expressions that they now want to go beyond the confines of the house to explore the great outdoors, but frankly they're under lock and key. It's bad enough having to keep a fox at bay without unleashing these two on the unsuspecting wildlife in the Borders.
 

WASPISH DILEMMA

..Fearless hero needed

A WORK OF ART: But a deadly discovery which must be 

destroyed

MY HUSBAND is a smoker and I'm not. When he sets off to inspect the apiary I keep expecting someone to call the fire brigade because there's always thick plumes of smoke. He leaves more of a vapour trail in his wake than the Red Arrows! But I guess it would be churlish not to admit he seems to avoid getting stung ... unlike me, but I'd rather work with our bees than envelope them in a cloud of smoke before nicking their honey. Anyway, the good news is I have a special job for him-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is and his smoker as a massive wasps nest the size of a World Cup football has recently been discovered. When I first heard a loud buzz emanating from the trees I was full of glee imagining I'd stumbled across a huge swarm of honeybees waiting to be collected and given a new home in our apiary. However, once the buzz was located I beat a hasty retreat because it turned out to be a wasps' nest and unlike honey bees, those wasps get riled and deadly just for the fun of it. They can also attack and sting as many times as they want until flattened.

Hubby has gone away for a few days but on his return I shall hand him his smoker, a pair of ladders and he shall be pressed into active service and directed towards the offending nest as he (hopefully) finds the hero inside himself to seek and destroy. Quite how he will get rid of it is anyone's guess but I'm fearful for the old Yew tree which is holding the rather spectacular silver nest made from a mix of wood and the saliva of the Queen wasp. The whole effect is rather dramatic and it looks like an elaborate papier mâché ball. In some ways I'd like to leave it until winter and then get it dismantled and have it as a piece of art but it is hanging near the kitchen and explains the large volume of wasps there every day.

 Without doubt the nest is a thing of beauty and it is amazing to think it would've started off barely the size of a plum. I shall, of course, up date you on the saga (and there will be one, for sure) of its removal but if you have any pearls of wisdom to share before hubby is sent in to do battle, then please do let me know.
 Oh, and if you're wondering about the background noise on the video that is Mr and Mrs Bumbles kicking off ... my Guineau Fowl

SILO SNIPPET

 ONE of my white peahens has been missing for nearly a week now and I fear the worse after a neighbouring farmer reported seeing a particularly fat fox in the area a few days ago ... pass the shotgun, please.

CAMPING OUT UNDER THE STARS

 ... But still cuddling in to mummy

 THE WEATHER has been absolutely glorious these last few days prompting some of the hens to opt for a night out rather than sleeping indoors.

UNDER THE WING: These three chicks have a night out and

a cuddle from their protective mother hen

 Just as the sun was setting I caught this caring mummy cuddling in to her three chicks as they created their own perch on the hen house roof.
 She's virtually sitting on one while giving a wing each to the other two.
 She hatched her trio of Scots Dumpys about two months ago; a couple are Cuckoo, just like her, and the other (under the left wing on the far right of the picture) is black. They're too young for me to identify their gender but I hope they're all hens as it took ages to sell my surplus cockerels.
 In the meantime, elsewhere in the hen pen,
there's some weird shenanighans going down with two of the adult black Dumpys.

MOTHERS-IN-WAITING: while 

Horatio, one of the cockerels

looks on at the back.

 Both appear to have gone broody at the same time and are sort of job sharing sitting on the nest waiting for the eggs to hatch - it takes around 21 days. Their shifts continually merge but the two seem quite happy with each other's company in the single egg box, but how they'll cope when the chicks start to hatch is anyone's guess. I'm not sure what the little ones are going to make of it either ... I mean how will they tell who is their mummy and how will the job share work out then? I'm sure Nature has all the answers but until then we'll all have to play the waiting game.
 And, of course, I've learned not to count my chickens - all the little white chicks that hatched late Spring failed to survive beyond 24 hours. So I'm still without white chicks although the Cuckoos and blacks appear to be thriving.
 As usual, if you have any advice, solutions or observations drop me a line.

EGGS WELL VERSED

EGGSTATIC: The neighbours are benefitting

from this deluge of fresh produce  

.. Or how a Qur'anic recital increased egg production

I'M SURE there could be a logical explanation but the truth is my hens have been knocking out eggs like there's no tomorrow since they heard a Qur'anic recital.
 Now some of you will no doubt be scoffing at this, but I can only present you with the facts as they happened and you can make your own judgment.
 One of the workmen was digging a trench near the hen pen recently and like all workmen he needed some background noise to help ease his labours.
 Most workmen and builders drive people insane with their tinny, half tuned radios belting out static along with the latest numbers in the world of pop. However this one, being a Muslim, decided to play a CD recording of verses from Surah Al-Baqarah to inspire and encourage his efforts and I must admit as the crystal clear tones filled the air it certainly had a spiritual effect on anyone in hearing distance.

LAY IT AGAIN, SAM : And there's more 

to come judging from this hen's expression

 Not only did it help him to finish the job in double quick time and impress the local council inspectors but the next day there was an abundance of eggs to collect from my Scots Dumpys.
 They are a rare breed hen designated an endangered species such is their plight and I reckon they've reached this state because of their low productivity in the egg department.

CAN YOU HEAR SOMETHING?

 So imagine my surprise when I was greeted with a batch of eggs the following day which worked out at one egg per chick in the hen pen plus a couple more! In addition, most of the eggs have morphed from rather modest little affairs to large! He-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is reckons it's all down to the power of prayer and while I'm a little sceptical when it comes to 21st century miracles, I've been bowled over by the surfeit of eggs which has been in evidence ever since.

NAPOLEON THINKS HE RULES THE ROOST:  But is
there's a greater force at play in the hen pen?

 Even the beligerent Napoleon seems a lot calmer these days as he swaggers around the hen pen.
 Please tell me if something similar has happened to your livestock or share your secrets to productivity.
 Maybe I should be installing internal speakers into the turkey block and the apiary ... hubby was stung four times yesterday as we introduced a new colony on Welsh Black Bees. Maybe a few verses from Surah Al-Baqara might be just what they need.
 Most Muslims will not be surprised by reading this as Surah Al-Baqarah is recited by those moving in to a new home and many recite it in their house every three days to repel dark forces. In fact the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, once said: "Whoever recites the last two verses of Surah Al-Baqarah at night, those two verses will be sufficient for him."
 All I would say to cynics is don't knock it 'til you've tried it ... you might be laughing now but not as much as me when I make my daily collection. Now who wants eggs for breakfast?

STING OF CONFIDENCE

..Or how not to take your bees for granted

 I HAVE just been Suárezed. Well, not quite bitten but stung and it's all my own fault. Growing in confidence as a beekeeper I have been working on the hives this year without relying on the smoker as I feel it aggravates the bees rather than pacifies them. Instead I've taken to hanging around the apiary observing my little workers coming and going from their variety of hives.

SITTING PRETTY: The octagonal Warre hive 

next to the Top Bar in my apiary

 The aim of this was so they would get used to me and my scent so when I do go looking inside the hives and inspect their frames for signs of pests or random queen cells they won't be unduly bothered. That's the theory anyway.

 Unlike most beekeepers who stick to one make my apairy has a collection of hives including a rather magnificent octagonal Warre and a handmade Top Bar as well as a couple of Nationals and a Smith's hive.

 Just yesterday a fellow beekeeper saw the Warre and never having seen one before began asking questions. We moved nearer the hives while I confidently reassured him that my bees are lovely and cuddly, even the very noisy black ones in a National nearby.

 And then, throwing caution to the wind, I lifted off the lid of the Warre so he could look inside for himself. Having done this I replaced the lid and it was then that I felt the slightest twinge of a needle sharp pain just above my right eyebrow.

CORRECT DRESS: Hubby & I wearing

the right kit for hive inspections

 "I've been stung, we'd best move away," I declared calmly and so we walked slowly from the hive. Once a sting has been discharged it emits a warning smell to the other bees in the area letting them know they are under attack. Fearing more bees stings would follow we made a sharp exit.

 It is imperative to remove the bee sting asap as, despite having detached itself from the bee's body, the damned thing continues to pump poison into the flesh wound. Remove the sting the wrong way and you only succeed in pumping more toxins into your skin so you need to sort of flick out the barbed spike quickly.

 This was done and I was left feeling slightly sore but otherwise fine. Off I went to do some comfort shopping in Hawick cursing myself for having been so wreckless. By the time I got home there was a small swelling above my eyebrow and painwise it was bearable - nothing like the sting I got on my ankle last year which was really off the scale in terms of agony for several days.

 This morning I woke up and was confonted with an image I barely recognised on looking in the mirror. A version of John Merrick, the Elephant Man, was staring back at me.

 He-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is is away this weekend but he expressed a rather uncharacteristic degree of schadenfreude instead of synpathy down the line as I told him what happened and that I had not been wearing my protective veil. There would have been more smugness forthcoming until I pointed out that I looked like a battered wife and people might think this was his work.

ONE IN THE EYE: By this morning I began to resemble The 

Elephant Man

 But at the end of the day I can not blame anyone else for this act of stupidity and recklessness other than myself. The poor bee who caused this mess with her sting is now dead - once a worker discharges the sting its fate is sealed. Believing her hive to be under attack she did what was required and in a selfless act of sacrifice went after the nearest threat.

 It's my first sting of the year and I hope it will be my last. Never again will I take my honeybees for granted.

 On a lighter note, I was reading somewhere how beauty writers think Kate Middleton's flawless complexion is down to bee venom facials. Apparently the beesting treatment costs around £100 a pop and is the latest 'celebrity must have' to get rid of wrinkles and is supposedly used by Simon Cowell, Victoria Beckham, Kylie Minogue and other A-listers. As you can see from the picture above the lines in my right eye have certainly vanished but so has my sight! 

CAMERON CAN BUZZ OFF

.. UK Government may introduce killer pesticides

 SOHO 2 SILO is normally a politics free zone but that all changed today with news that David Cameron and his Cabinet will decide whether to allow banned bee killing pesticides to be used on fields across the UK.

SPECIAL DELIVERY: My latest colony

of bees arrived from South Yorkshire

 The major pesticide company Syngenta had one of its products banned across Europe last year because of the risk it poses to the bee population but now the firm has just lodged an emergency appeal to get the ban overturned.
 We only have a short time but if enough of us raise the roof, throw a mega strop and sign this petition: https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/a-ban-is-a-ban who knows what we could achieve.
 And since I've just received another package of bees to add to my growing apiary, I want to do everything in my power to protect my honeybees and everyone else's.
 The excellent 38degrees people power pressure group says it's not just beekeepers like myself who should be concerned but all of us could be affected because in a world without bees we wouldn't last very long. Bees pollinate apples, cucumbers, strawberries, tomatoes, cauliflowers ... in fact all fruit and veg.

BUZZ OFF! If my bees could talk that's what they'd tell Cameron

and his pals in Downing Street on Tuesday

 The killer pesticides that Europe banned are called neonicotinoids and they are linked to the decline of honeybees as well as affecting a whole variety of other creatures such as earthworms and butterflies, according to a major study that directly contradicts the UK Government’s unhelpfully relaxed stance on the use of neonicotinoids.

 When you get a group of 29 scientists from four continents saying they've found unequivocal evidence that “neonics” – the most widely used pesticides in the world – are having a dramatic impact on the ecosystems that support food production and wildlife, you'd think politicians would listen. Well the arrogant sods aren't so we've got to make them sit up and pay attention by signing the petition.

UNDER THREAT: My apiary which 

is home to six colonies of honeybees

Independent researchers, who advise the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), say that the “systemic” pesticides such as the neonicotinoids pose as great a risk to the environment as the banned pesticide DDT, and other persistent organophosphates.

 Syngenta are trying to wriggle out of the ban by appealing directly to the Old Etonians who sit in Downing Street. We all have to come together to tell the Prime Minister to uphold the law and tell Syngenta to naff off through the backdoor from whence they came!