SILO SNIPPET

 I've just taken charge of nine Norfolk Bronze turkey poults from Northumberland marking the start of an enterprise dedicated to good, quality stock which can grace any table and satisfy the most discerning taste buds. Watch this space.

GETTING IN A JAM

..Or how to go scrumping

 When I was knee high to a grasshopper I used to lark around with a group of kids who would get up to all sorts of mischief ... nothing major league in terms of crime but clambering over walls to retrieve fallen apples from trees heavy with the fruit.

TEMPTING: Wild apples picked by moonlight & spread on

toast by dawn

 Since none of us were really tall enough to pull them off the trees we would gather those that had fallen on to the ground. Occasionally the more acrobatic amongst us would clamber on someone's shoulders to try and pluck a nice looking apple but more often than not they would topple over and fall.
 Afterwards we would gorge ourselves on the forbidden fruit knowing that stomach pains would soon follow, so bitter tasting were the crab apples.
 Hardly the stuff of the Lavendar Hill mob but trying to take some of Mrs Brown's apples was our way of adding some exciting to the day. Kids now rely on something called an X Box for their kicks but I can't see how that gets the adrenalin going by sitting at home transfixed to a screen.
 The funny thing is, Mrs Brown was such a nice, sweet old lady that had we knocked on her door she probably would've invited us all in but where would have been the fun in that?

APPLE & GINGER jam treat

 I was reminded of this episode of misspent youth just the other day when me and my neighbour - I shall call him George for that is his name - went off to pick some apples from a nearby tree. We must have looked a highly suspicious pair clambering around a hedge, wading through mud and hidden dips into a field just as dusk was falling and the pair of us giggled away as we wondered if anyone would spot us.

 George is in his 80s and I am old enough to know better but there we were scrambling around the ground picking up apples and pulling down the low branches to relieve them of their burden of fruit. Before you dial 999 George is already known to the farmer and has permission to help himself; nevertheless our little escapade intoxicated us with merriment as we recalled our days as naughty nippers.

JAM TODAY: And tomorrow and for

the rest of 2014 as well

 However, having filled some bags with the fruit we then headed back to home base and set about making Wild Apple and Ginger Jam using an old Irish recipe by kitchen goddess Darina Allen. Mrs Allen has revived kitchen skills long forgotten by the microwave and cook-in-a-bag generation. Reading her book on these old methods so inspired me and that's how George and I came to go out foraging for apples at dusk instead of waiting for the morning. It was a seize the moment plan and there was no time to wait. It was also the first time I'd ever made jam and it has subsequently triggered a craze! By the end of the week alongside the apple jam was raspberry jam, plus jars of apple and plum jam followed by  an orange, lemon & grapefruit marmalade, a strawberry conserve and some lemon curd.

SHELVES STOCKED with Darina's

homemade jams 

 I only stopped because I'd ran out of jars but a new batch arrived today and so now I'm in peeling, pulping and boiling mode all over again. I've virtually exhausted Darina Allen's supply of recipes  in her book Forgotten Skills of Cooking so if you have any old family recipes you want to hand down I now have an embarrassment of riches in terms of apples plus I bought some additional fruit from the local shops including loads of oranges, persimmon, and tangerines.

THREE TYPES OF MARMALADE: Orange

grapefruit & lemon

 In fact I'll do a deal - share your most precious family recipe with me and if I make it I will send you a jar through the post, special delivery. Now there's an offer you can't refuse. Additionally, if you have any jam stories from your childhood days or special dos and don'ts you want to share please send them to the Soho 2 Silo blog. I look forward to hearing from you - and if the recipe turns out to be special please also give me permission to publish the details in this forum.

CHARLOTTE'S FIRST EGG

.. A small triumph

AS YOU ALL know, my Scots Dumpys hens are very precious to me, not just because they are an endangered species,  but because they are also great little characters which is why I write at length about their milestones large and small.

CHARLOTTE: Relaxing with her brothers and sisters recently

 One of my youngest is called Charlotte and she is a beautiful black hen with an amazing bottle green undertone shining through her ebony feathers. Her tragic mother Josephine is still missing, almost certainly the victim of a fox strike, but I'm happy to say her legacy lives on through the six eggs she hatched earlier this year.
 Charlotte emerged from one of the hen houses this morning looking mildly surprised and a little coy; the reason I noticed her is because all of the others had left the hen coop some minutes earlier for their morning stroll. There's usually a feathered stampede for the gate when it opens so I was surprised she had lagged behind.

SMALL but perfectly formed

 But when I went and checked her hen house there was a shiny, newly laid egg ... still beautifully warm. Furthermore it's the first egg I've had from the girls in the last three weeks as some are moulting while others are unhappy at the chilly weather conditions. And it is, without doubt, Charlotte's first.


 OK, so it might not quite fit into the egg cup pictured right, but the start of every journey begins with one step. Well done Charlotte, may this be the first of many and here's hoping you will go on to become a wonderful mother just like Josephine. If she was here today she would be so proud, I'm sure.

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?