THREE OF A KIND

..Or playing hide and seek

VICTORIA & ALBERT: Trying to keep a low profile

  THERE'S lots of comings and goings on my smallholding, such is the nature of the farming business and the tally at the moment is still heavily weighted in my favour despite the best efforts of the local fox and badger population.

  However he-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is has been trying to stamp his authority by banning the purchase of anything with a pulse until 2014 arrives and normally I would agree but this wonderful opportunity came my way just the other day to buy some peafowl.
 I'd already bought two Indian peafowl - Victoria and Albert - and sneaked them in to the hen pen hoping he wouldn't notice; and we got away with it for a few weeks after he gave up trying to collect eggs from my beloved Scots Dumpys who seem confused by the concept of laying an egg.
 Even when Albert made a dreadful echoing honking sound and some death curdling screams, hubby just thought our cockerel Napoleon was over-reaching himself in the cock-a-doodle-do stakes.
 Then he nearly blew a gasket when he spotted Albert parading around showing off his magnificent array of feathers and there's no mistaking a peacock so I had to 'fess up to the purchase. I was going to feign shock and declare: "How did that get there?" and instead I opted for: "Oh those old things, they've been there for ages. Didn't I mention them before?" And as I attempted to blag my way through a breeding programme I was developing for the birds next year hubby walked away shaking his head in dismay ... the man can smell cabbage boiling in Manchester so he wasn't going to hang around an listen to anymore BS.

IT'LL BE ALL WHITE ... playing a game of hide and seek

 Thankfully he's not one to hold a grudge and since we're embroiled in the middle of renovations, builders and bricks he has had more important things to think about.
 However, as I was saying, an opportunity presented itself the other week when I had the chance to buy three white peacocks and so I snuck out on an errand returning at night with the birds.
 They've been living in the stable with the other peafowl and the turkeys because it's warm, out of the way of rotten weather and prying eyes! They will also take around six weeks to settle before I can let them out.
Now in the meantime I have several dilemmas ... the first is what to say to hubby if he does happen upon this stunning trio, secondly how do I ensure they don't cross breed with the other peafowl and finally what names should I give to them? There are two peahens and one peacock so any suggestions would be most welcome.

CELEBRITY CHICKENS

.. And the usual tantrums from the turkeys

 AFTER A great deal of thought I produced a line up of Scots Dumpys who will feature in a new TV series based in 17th century Britain ... their star quality was picked up by a company which specialises in sourcing and locating creatures for big TV and film productions and, as an endangered species, there's not many Scots Dumpys around these days.

Here is the final line up of chickens who will make their acting debut headed by Horatio who, as you can see, has all his tail feathers and looks quite the part. Poor old Napoleon, the alpha male in the hen pen is in the middle of moulting and would look more suited to a Hammer House of Horror movie than some bodice-ripping costume drama.
 I carried out the auditions on the front lawn and the hens really seemed to enjoy themselves as they out pecked and out performed each other for the parts of 17th century poultry. I just hope there's no nerves tomorrow when it really will be lights, camera, action!

 Afterwards I should be able to tell you more about the TV series, who is making it, what it's called and who is starring in it. I'm really excited since I've never worked on a movie set before. Naturally a full report will follow in a few days time.

However not everyone in the farm is pleased as you can see above - poor Ant and Dec turned up for the audition looking absolutely magnificent but the truth is Bourbon Red turkeys didn't emerge until the 19th century and even then only in America in Kentucky, Pennslyvania. I wonder if I could get them a part in Downton Abbey?

MY DUMPYS HAVE GOT THE X-FACTOR

..But their feathers are falling out

THERE is much excitement in the hen pen these days as stardom beckons my wonderful Scots Dumpys, a rare breed of hen which were once a common sight in Bonny Scotland.
 My efforts at saving this endangered species were finally rewarded in an unexpected phone call last week when an agent asked me if I was the dumpy woman in the Borders.
 At first I thought he was being a little personal, one of those cold callers trying to sell weight loss products, and then I suspected hubby had got one of his friends to phone and indulge in some leg-pulling.
 Thankfully the polite man carried on seemingly oblivious to my rather chilled and abrupt responses. It transpired he runs an agency booking animals to feature in films and on TV so I took his number and returned the call a while later.

COCK SURE: Horatio finally out of 

the shadows

 It emerged there's some huge bodice-ripping 17th century drama in production that will be bigger than Game of Thrones and the director needs my heroic little hens to play a role.
 I can't say too much about it at the moment, or mention the big name stars who will be there, but next week I will set off north (beyond Edinburgh) with 10 of my best hens so they can make their acting debut.
 Sadly alpha male Napoleon, who you can see and hear by clicking on to the 30 second video (below)  may have to be sidelined for this series (yes, this could roll on) since he's started moulting and last week lost his magnificent tail feathers.
 And a few other veterans have also started to shed their feathers so there are some unsightly bald patches. However the loss of feathers means an unexpected bonus for some of the birds ... step forward Horatio who has always played second fiddle to Napoleon and remained in his shadow as a result. Now his moment has come but I'm not sure he's ready to step up to the plate. When he gets stressed his lovely red comb turns purple and the younger hens don't appear to take any notice of him.

  I have 25 Scots Dumpys now so I should have some fine examples from which to choose. Auditions will commence at the weekend and I will select ten of the best on poise, feather quality and temperament. The best bred Dumpy has short legs and a long, boat-like body forcing it to almost waddle as it makes its way through long grass.
 I have to say I am well impressed by the film researchers who insisted that the only hens to take part in the farmyard seens should be Scots Dumpys. I really didn't realise that so much time and effort was spent in getting such minor details historically correct.

Dumpys were much loved and valued by the Celts and the Picts for their remarkable hearing and, should any tresspassers wander by, they would be the first to alert the camp. Would be invaders and English Border raiders cursed them because of their ability to raise the alarm on hearing an alien sound.

 In this blog: http://soho2silo.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/scots-dumpys-unsung-heroes-of-nation.html I call on Scotland's First Minister to make the Dumpy the nation's new mascot.

 Unfortunately, in this age of cloning, accelerated breeding etc. Scots Dumpys have literally died out as high volume egg production became more favoured by farmers than amiable characteristics.
 They are still an endangered species but there is a Scots Dumpy Club http://www.scotsdumpyclub.org.uk/ made up of a few folk like myself who are determined the keep the breed going. Of course once mine hit the big screen I think there could well be a revival of interest in the breed.

STARLETS: Celebrity chickens or mere bystanders? Waiting 

patiently for the auditions

 Hubby is often complaining that the cost of their feed is much higher than their output but even he is well impressed that they're going to earn some dosh. I won't go into details but it's above the minimum wage - that's showbiz!
 Stay tuned for a full report - and possibly pictures - of our day on set. If all goes well my girls will be required for three more
shoots in the next four weeks.
 And no longer will I be known as the woman who fell off a donkey in Afghanistan - from now on I'll be known as the Dumpy woman!

UGLY BUGS

..But their mother loves 'em

 NOW I know in this world of celebrity there is often a drive to objectify people and I am one of the biggest critics of this display of shallowness among folk.

UGLY DUO: But one day they will become 

beautiful white fantails ... let's hope!

 However I have to say I was taken aback today when I looked inside the dovecot to check out the two new arrivals which in my previous blog show up as a couple of little fluffy, yellow cutsies against their mum's beautiful white plummage.
Imagine my shock when I saw these two boggle-eyed chaps photographed on the right, staring back at me this morning. Furthermore, there's nothing cuddly or fluffy about them - they feel like spikey little hedgehogs to touch.
 In fact I thought the mother had abandoned them as she didn't seem to bother going near the dovecot all morning, but apparently this is what week old doves look like.
 I will keep you up to date on their progress but I would appreciate feedback from anyone who has experience of doves. This morning the flock of seven took off, I'm not sure where, and didn't reappear for nearly an hour.
 Is this normal behaviour?

CUTE CHICK

..Or Baby Dove

AS PROMISED, here is the first picture of proud mum and one chick ... I think the second is hidden behind this cute little fluffy yellow baby dove
at the bottom left of the shot.

CLICK & CHICK: If you look closely this curious little

dove is sticking his beak out from underneath his mum

He or she is far too young to sex, and in truth judging from the other fantails in the dovecot I haven't a clue how to tell the difference anyway.
However, we can all be sure that the white fantail in the picture is female and she looks a lot less frazzled than she did last week.
 In fact if you look closely I'm sure there's almost a hint of a smile around her visage or am I just imagining it?
 I'm told the chicks will remain safely tucked away for the next two weeks and will be fed from a dilute solution produced from the parents' crop called Pigeon Milk.
 Apparently the father will share the duties of rearing the fledgling pair although I've not seen any evidence of this so far; and I'm not sure who is the daddy, either!
 In about 10 days time the chicks will develop porcupine-style quills and by about four weeks they should be old enough to feed on their own.
 Then, apparently, the frisky parents will be ready to start the whole process all over again! Oo-er, I've a feeling that if the rest of my doves begin to pair off there could be a population explosion of white doves in the Borders.

SILO SNIPPET

NEW ARRIVALS always cheer me up and this pair are no exception. They're fluffy, yellow and look cute as far as I can see but their mum is not letting me anywhere near her newly hatched doves at the moment. As soon as I can sneak a picture I will so we can all share in her pride and joy.

HACKED OFF BY CHAINSAW

.. It's just not cutting edge

 THE other day a certificate and skills identity card came through the post reminding me I am now proficient in the art of chainsaw maintenance and cross-cutting following a two-day course in the Borders.
 Receiving an award should fill one with pride but in truth, I'd forgotten all about my course; it was an unpleasant experience which I'd pushed to the back of my memory for several reasons and I doubt if I'll exhibit this newly acquired skill on my CV nor pick up a chainsaw again.

EMINEM sporting a chainsaw like mine ... the similarity

ends there

They are, without doubt (in my humble opinion) the most badly designed piece of kit I've ever come across and personally I believe that they should not be sold to anyone over the counter who has never worked with one before just in the same way as you'd never sell a gun to anyone without a proper licence.

 My first day was spent dismantling my brand new chainsaw made by some Scandanavian company and popularised by the US rap star Eminem, pictured left.

The last time I was taught to dismantle and reassemble anything as lethal was a machine gun, but that's another story for another time.

We were then taught by our instructor how to sharpen the said saw using a large file and some square nut device. Each tooth of the saw had to be sharpened individually and since my blade was particularly long try to imagine giving a dental flossing to a crocodile. As a left hander I always find these sort of tasks difficult since manufacturers rarely think about us southpaws. I told my instructor I had a self-sharpening electric breadknife at home and couldn't understand why some bright chap had not invented a self sharpening chainsaw. His facial expression was a picture.

 Then I learned that the fuel that goes in to a chainsaw is a concoction of two liquids. Why? Wouldn't it make more sense to sell the final solution in one bottle or make a fuel that didn't have to be combined with another? Just asking..

PROOF: Chainsaw certificate

 In addition, although hubby had bought me a top-of-the-range chainsaw, there was no starter button on the damn thing either and although I wanted to pull the starter cord in a standing position, I was told the ONLY way was to put the machine on the ground and, knees kept straight while holding steady with right hand to pull the throttle/cord/whatever/thingy with the left.

 This is fine if you have the spine of Soviet gymnast Olga Korbut and the biceps of Charles Atlas, but I have neither and all my natural instincts told me to either kneel down or put the damn thing on a waist height table and pull the bloody string.

 "You can't," said my instructor. I asked why not and he replied: "Because you can't." Again I asked for a reason and was told: "Because you can't, there's only one way; there's only ever been one way." I did want to continue my line of questioning but felt to do so would have created an even more unpleasant atmosphere and further alienated me from my fellow students (all blokes from farming backgrounds) who seemed to have well bonded with their own chainsaws.

SUITED & BOOTED: Safety clothes like these are essential

 The next day before we were actually set loose with our kit we had to wear protective clothing which was inspected and cleared by the course instructor. The cost of such clothes plus hard hat will set you back a couple of hundred quid and we were left in no doubt that if any of ours did not meet the required safety standard we would not be allowed near a chainsaw.

 Once we set about sawing stuff I could see why. These saws are absolutely lethal and one twist or turn the wrong way could cause serious injury or worse. I don't mind admitting here that I was terrified by the blade, the noise and losing a limb - and that was before I got near any wood.

 Cross cutting is back-breaking work and I now look at lumber jack types and forestry workers with much more respect.

 A friend from Texas was greatly amused by the fact I'd enrolled on this two-day course; Texas is synonymous with the 1974 slasher film about a murderous maniac armed with a chainsaw. Neither he or anyone else in Texas goes on a safety course, apparently.

 Which brings me back to my concerns that any nutter can go in to a shop and buy a chainsaw without proper training, the correct clothing and hard hat.

 In the meantime hubby says he is still waiting for a return on his investment and keeps pointing to a fallen tree which he wants me to reduce to small logs for the fire. So far I've resisted and suggested he call Slim Shady!