WARNING: BARBARIAN AT WORK

.. Or bringing a touch of Algeria to the Borders

  MY husband is a Barbarian. No, he really IS a Barbarian. Born in some remote mountain village in the Berber region of Algeria, he often talks with a great fondness about his birthplace and the centuries-old traditions which have come to define the people who live there.

DANGER: Barbarian at work

 So when we moved to the Borders he said he would feel quite at home and put into practice some of the ways of his village. This actually filled me with dread in case he was expecting me to get up at 5am every day, milk a herd of goats, make a round of cheese and bake a dozen loaves of bread while collecting the wood, lighting the fires and getting the breakfast ready for the man of the house ... and all before 8am. That's what he reckons Algerian women in his village do, anyway.
 For the past few days he has disappeared off into the wood and apart from the noise of the chainsaw, tree branches snapping and other timber-like sounds I've not bothered to find out exactly what he's been up to focussing more instead on becoming a bee keeper. It's still some weeks away before I get my first colony but I want to make sure I am well prepared for the new arrivals.

  FOX-proof fence                       

 So imagine my surprise today when I went to see for myself what was occupying hubby's time. It turns out he has been building a fox-proof barrier to protect the turkeys, should they want to try nesting outside again. OK, so it's not Hadrian's Wall but it is an environmentally friendly version of a dry stone wall and it's a mega impressive structure.

 As you can see from the pictures the base is built with an intricate weave of tiny branches he snapped off from the lower trunks of trees and as the wall gets taller the size of the branches become thicker and stronger. They have been reclaimed from storm damaged trees on the forest floor. It's quite amazing, I'm sure you will agree. He proudly says the design is Algerian and will enable tiny creatures like mice and voles to pass through while blocking the path of our enemies Mr Fox and Old Brock.

 He also reckons birds will be drawn like magnets during the nesting season and his wall will become a host to all sorts of wildlife while repelling the predators who've made our lives such a misery these last few weeks. Regular visitors to this blog know the pain we've endured following the loss a nesting goose and turkey. Should you want to build a similar barrier I am sure my husband will be happy to advise and give some tips on how make such a structure. I'd also love to hear your feedback as well.

 I may even show the design to SNP leader Alex Salmond should, in the event of Scotland being blessed with independence, he wants a cost effective and environmentally friendly version of the Roman Wall built to keep out the neighbours south of the Borders!

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.

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?

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.