HOOTS MON* ...

.. "It's a braw bricht moonlicht nicht the nicht."

EYES WIDE SHUT: Fred being placed back in 

his Achica box after a feed

 IT WAS freezing cold but the night sky was illuminated by a full, bright moon in a star-studded sky.

 I had been following a big log-carrying lorry towards the Scottish Borders and was driving with extreme caution due to black ice when I noticed something fluffy, swirling around by the lorry's downdraft as we approached Catcleugh Reservoir just north of Otterburn.

 Ever curious - even at 2am - I slowed down and then reversed quarter of a mile until I found what I was looking for ... there, sitting blinking in the middle of the road was a Tawny owl looking slightly dazed and confused.

 As I walked towards the little fellow I half expected him to flap his wings and vanish but he sat there and allowed me to pick him up. His only response was to dig his talons around my fingers as though he was seeking some sort of comfort or reassurance that he was safe. Well that's what I thought anyway.

 I phoned ahead to he-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is to tell him to expect another guest and then told the story. Hubby is always peeved these little adventures happen when he's not around and so tried to remain unimpressed with my find when I arrived home.

TIRED & UNEMOTIONAL: Fred looks fed-up

with life

 After a quick check on Google I found an old Achica box and fashioned it in to the sort of home a tawny Owl would feel comfortable in and then put him in an outhouse for what remained of the night.

 The following morning I called an animal helpline but it was so busy I decided to try and sort out my feathered companion myself, via picking up information on the 'net.
 Surprisingly, my new best friend was uber calm making me wonder if he was, perhaps, still dazed and confused. He allowed me to pick him up, this time I was wearing red gloves so when he dug in his talons the experience was not as painful as it had been the night before.
 He didn't flap his wings and he allowed me to stroke his feathers.
 I called a friend of mine who keeps birds of prey and he suggested I try feeding the bird with day old chicks and let me have three which I set about chopping and skinning. Not a pleasant task and as it turned out, the owl could not be tempted by the bloody morsels.
 After consulting another owl website I managed to persuade him to take a couple of spoonfuls of catfood but it was obvious he needed specialist help.
 Within half an hour of calling the Scottish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (suggested via Twitter by some friends) a wonderful lady arrived in her SSPCA van and inspected Fred; he was named by my daughter.
 The lady, obviously far more experienced at handling owls than me, spread out his wings out and felt around his body and concluded that nothing seemd broken. He was, she said, very boney and underweight suggesting he might just be weak, stressed and in shock which would explain his apathetic appearance.
 She placed him gently in an appropriate owl-carrying box and said he would be cared for in a wildelife centre in Alloa, Clackmannashire until he gets better. She did say she'd let me know of his progress and, of course, I shall pass on any news to you via this blog.
 The SSPCA does a grand job so if you have any pennies to spare you can donate here as they help all sorts of creatures in distress.

* Hoots Mon: Was in the pop charts in 1958 and you can download now for those of you who want to take a trip down Memory Lane

A Year in Review

.. Or, The A to Z of 2014

ANT & DEC: Best friends, soul mates and inseperable until

the fox intervened

A is for Ant, the last of the turkeys. Since he arrived in 2013 the ubiquitous Mr Fox has taken all of his companions including 8 Bourbon Red and 9 Norfolk Bronze turkeys. His soul mate Dec was snatched off a wall by a fox just last week and Ant is inconsolable. I now have to decide if it would be kinder to serve him on a plate or start looking around for new mates.

B is for Billy Goat and Rolo is absolutely magnificent and not yet fully grown. He's a British Primitive Goat which was once known as the Old English/Scottish/Welsh/Irish, British Landrace or Old British Goat. The breed descends from the first farmers in the Neolithic period and was moved around by Celts, marauding Vikings and Saxons. These goats are almost predator proof and are largely used these days for Conservation Grazing and scrub clearance.

C is for cat and I've got two types of felines on the farm - three feral who go about their work unseen but have reduced the rat population to virtually nil and are unsung heros and three pampered indoor cats who have eradicated - it seems - the mice population.

D is for dog and I've not yet got one because I'm in a bit of a dilemma at what breed to choose. Should I get a dog(s) it will defintely be an outdoors animal designed purely to ward off or attack foxes otherwise security is left to the geese who already do a cracking job. The problem is I can't have a dog(s) that might stray off into neighbouring farmland and end up being shot on sight by farmers who need to protect their sheep and lambs. Any advice please let me know.

E is for eggs and they're in very short supply at the moment, partly because it's winter and partly because my remaining five hens are still in a state of shock after more than 20 of their companions were slaughtered by a couple of foxes who broke in to their compound.

ROLO: British Primitive Goat & expectant

father of four in the Spring

F is for Frank my white pheasant. He's a lovely, friendly little chap who has survived two shooting seasons but alas he is lonely after his female partner disappeared earlier in the year. Despite that he's tried to mate with any white bird he sees which has caused consternation in the hen house and a bit of a flap with Philomenia my white peahen who defintely thinks he's punching above his weight.

JACK, master of all he surveys ... he's owned

the postman several times too!

G is for geese and they are the talk of the launderette in the Borders. Led by ferocious gander Jack, Vera and Bluebell have earned notoriety among the postmen, couriers and delivery men and women who come to our door ... and then run like hell after being ambushed by the geese. Better than any watchdog, that's for sure. Let's hope 2015 will see a successful breeding program between Jack and Vera the two Toulouse geese.

H are for hens and 2014 was a rollercoaster year for my rare breed Scots Dumpys. Having assembled some beautiful specimens from the Isle of Wight, Northampton, Cheshire, Manchester and Biggar a successful breeding programme got underway headed by cockerels Horatio and Napoleon. Their fame spread far and wide and they were used foir farmyard scenes in an American hit TV series focussing on 17th century Scotland called Outlander. Tragedy struck a few months back when atleast two foxes tunneled their way into the hen compound killing most of the occupants. Horatio survived but lost his cock-a-doodle-do and most of his neck feathers while the last four surviving females have not laid an egg for two months now.

HORATIO: In the good old days when

he could cock-a-doodle-do

I is for Insecta, the scientific classification for the common honeybee and at the moment I'm the proud owner of six colonies. While 2013 provided a bumper crop, last year was rather disappointing in honey terms but I'm hopeful this year the bees will really start doing the business ... if they survive the weather. One colony has already been destroyed thanks to 100mph gales which blew over the hive and scattered the occupants inside.

J is for the Jed Forest Hunt. In 2013 I told them to steer clear of my land but the following year went cap in hand and asked them for help with my fox problem. In the last year they and their supporters have reported 49 dead foxes ... and they still keep on coming. Who said country foxes are heading for the cities - the blighters continue to wreak havoc here in the Borders.

THUMBERLINA remain the

only white Scots Dumpy in the pen

K is for kak, a word I learned during a trip to Johannesburg in 2014 and it means simply: "Shit". And let's face it, since my herd of goats arrived I'm shovelling plenty of it these days as they are being stabled during the winter before I let them loose to munch there way through scrubland and generally tidy up the fields. And when I'm not cleaning up after the goats the geese keep me fully occupied - on average each one poops 30 times a day. There's certainly plenty of shit around the farm. 

HANGING around waiting for

night fall; one of the bats

L is for Laurasiatheria which is the scientific name for placental mammals originating from the northern supercontinent of Laurasia. It includes shrews, hedgehogs and bats which brings me on nicely (yes, I know a tad contrived) to bats and there's loads of the low-flying little fellas around here. I've not yet got that close up to any that I can identify with any degree of confidence.

M is for milk and hubby is hoping our pregnant nanny goats will be a great source to make butter and cheese from once they've had their kids in the spring. It seems the billy, Rolo, is quite the stud as all four of his nannies are now in the family way.

N is for noise and the chief reason why I invested in a dozen guinea fowl in the autumn of 2014. The little blighters maraud noisily around the farm and produce a frenzied feathered klaxon noise if something untoward comes in to their view ... ie the fox. 

O is for Owl and I'm seriously considering either offering a home to a rescue owl or buying a baby barn owl (with certificate) to rear. There's something very calming about owls ... watch this space.

ALBERT shows off his plumage in preparation for Spring '15

P is for peafowl and I'm really looking forward to seeing mine in full feather for 2015. I've two adult Indian peacocks King Ed and Albert, a pair of white peafowl Harry and Philomenia and four peahens so that Ed, Albert and Harry don't fall out. They're beautiful birds, very curious and on an evening they perch in the highest Scots Pine tree in the woods - very noisy but so enchanting.

Q is for Queen Bee and I'm hoping my ladies will survive the winter and continue to lead their honeybee colonies on to great things for 2015. They're all marked with a dot denoting the year of their birth and by my reckoning they should be firing on all six cylinders very soon.

RESOLUTION for 2015: To take part in the Return to the Ridings

R is for Return to the Ridings. The Borders are deeply entwined with the turbulent era of the Border Reivers who ruthlessly raided lands on either side of the Anglo-Scots border from the 13th to the 17 centuriues. I am determined to get a horse and join in the fun known as the Ridings. From Hawick, Selkirk, Jedburgh, Langholm and Lauder the festivities can carry on for two weeks and is part of the pageantry.

S is for Soho 2 Silo, this blog which is great fun to write as I share my (mis)adventures with you but to all of those who said I wouldn't last six weeks in the countryside after two decades in Soho, I think I've proved you wrong. Thanks to everyone who has given their feedback, please keep up your support, shared stories and nuggets of information - I need as much help as possible as many of you know.

TUBBY Bluebell became so obese 

she couldn't stand on her feet!

T is for Tubby and while most of the animals keep in trim Bluebell  rather disgraced herself. So much so towards the end of 2014 she had to go on a crash diet when she became too heavy to move. She was put on grass and water for a week until she was back on her feet again. Much to the annoyance of her two companions Jack and Vera they also had to share the same spartan diet.

UGLY? No way but noisy yes; one of the
Dirty Dozen.

U is for Ugly and I was a wee bit offended on behalf of my Guineau Fowl when a passerby said they were ugly birds! Of course I didn't buy the so-called 'Dirty Dozen' for their good looks but for their rowdy, hooligan-style behaviour and they've not let me down so far. They are probably the most unpopular birds with all the other animals because they make one hell of a racket, hunt in a group and attack anything that gets in their way - apart from Jack the Gander, of course.
They are super efficient as they go through the land hunting out bugs and slugs and will not stop for anything as they hunt in one large gang. What they might lack in looks they certainly make up for in energy and enthusiasm as they go about their business in their dark grey suits.

V is for Vets and the only animals that have needed medical attention so far are my indoor cats who require an annual flu injection and the occasional manicure! Although I am wondering if I should try and see if there's such a think as a Chicken Whisperer for my hens. They are still shook up after the fox invasion of their hen pen and it's now been a couple of months.

W is for White Doves and I've not had a good year with these little birds. The first lot succumbed to a nesting pair of Peregrine Falcons but undeterred I brought in another lot from a farm in Wolsingham. The latter escaped on the first day and flew back but undeterred I went and retrieved them holding them in an aviary for several weeks. Just the day before they were due for release a fox tunnelled under the frame and massacred all but one. The survivor, called Hope, now has five new mates - all fantails from Nottingham and they are pairing up just now.

LAST WORD: But not in 2015. I'm 

determined the year of the fox is over

X is often used to represent the unknown, if I remember my Algebra classes correctly and 2015 is a bit of an unknown for me. I'm not sure what new animals I will introduce this year - if any at all. Suggestions, as usual aew welcome.

PLOTTING an escape or planning a suicide - with sheep like

these two Zwartbles you just never know.

Y is for Yawn and I know I've bored you all rigid with stories and dramas of the foxes that have plagued my stock in 2014, but I'm hoping that 2015 will bring in a totally new era in which the fox does not feature.

Z is for a rare breed of sheep called Zwartbles and I kept two for a few months last year. Regular readers of this column will known I'm not a big fan of sheep; they're subversive animals with two missions: To die or to run away. However he-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is has a taste for sheep, especially mutton and so I will not be too surprised if I see more of the woolly demons make an appearance in the pastures some time this year.
 In the meantime, I wish you all the best for 2015 and hope you succeed in whatever you set out to do. Please keep the comments and suggestions coming. Have a great year.

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.