Social Integration

A friend at the weekend expressed concern that I was in danger of becoming a recluse. Perhaps it was my ‘waxing lyrical’ as to the tried and tested techniques for setting mole traps, or the huge heap of kindling, a result of many a happy hour with my axe which alerted her radar to the prospect of me going native.

 

‘But I do work at least 2 days a week in an office, with lots of people and I chat to my new found commuting friends on the train’, I protested.

‘And just who are you seeing the rest of the week?’ She quickly retorted.

‘The pigs……and the chickens…..’ I was interrupted.

‘Human contact!!’

I had to think long and hard.

‘Well, there is our neighbour’…..her simile only lasted a miniscule of a second as I finished my sentence, ‘we regularly discuss the vagaries of his tractor hydraulics and he was only telling me the other day, how important it is to check the oil level every day’.

 

The expression on her face said it all – a combination of sorrow and utter disbelief.

 

Reflecting on our conversation, I decided to make a visit it was time to embrace social integration. A friendly letter, from the lady who collects the subscriptions to the village newsletter seemed a good starting point. Off I went and had a lovely hour, chatting over a cup of mellow birds by a warm Rayburn. My new friend suggested that the solution to my social predicament lay with the Women’s Institute.

 

The Women’s Institute?? But I’m not even 35 I muttered to myself as I trudged back up the hill reflecting on my morning.

 

With work not scheduled until later in the week, I began to think my friend may well have had good reason to be concerned. I sat at my desk to ponder and hey presto, lurking in the pile of generator manuals – a drinks invitation for an office opening – tonight!! Who says I’ve gone native??! I changed out of my scruffs and into suit and heels in record time and couldn’t wait to sip champagne, mingle, discuss ground breaking professional matters……..see people!!

 

The reality was that after all of about 10 minutes of being talked at by a rather pompous tweed suit, a glass of warm sparkling wine in one hand and the other wrestling with an overly large canapé, I found myself hankering after a cup of mellow birds with my new friend.

 

Jam and Jerusalem, here I come!!

Thursday 19th February 2009 – my first mole

It’s offical! I am a mole catcher of note……….well, I have caught one, a big one and very exciting it was too! The smug satisfaction stuck with me for at least 3 days. It has now worn off despite the fact that the dead mole is ceremoniously hung on the fence by the back gate for all to admire providing a daily reminder of my achievement. There are two problems – the dead mole is starting to smell and it hasn’t to date, been joined by any of it’s friends.

Rather than providing a marker of my mole hunting efficiencies – the said dead mole only serves to fuel suspicion that  I have gone stark raving mad.

I have become completely obsessed with my trapping. Armed with my spade, gloves and traps, I am on a one woman mission to restore my view from its current lunar appearance back to uninterrupted meadow. I have approached my task with a significant amount of planning and preparation. The first rule of war, is, I understand, know your enemy. As such I have spent many a long evening researching everything there is to know about these velvety devils. I am alarmed by the breeding cycle and as such have put down the books to focus on manoeuvres. I eagerly follow runs and have spent far too long squashing old mole hills so that I can monitor their recent movements.

Sadly, all of this for just one mole. I shall not be deterred – the war continues.

Meanwhile, there appears to be trouble in the hen house. Having been convinced that out of my 11 surviving birds, only one was a cockerel, suddenly, it looks like I’ve got at least one more. They may just be butch hens but I am sure I heard a stifled cock a doodle do from one of them. This could explain my lack of eggs – still nothing and the weather is so much milder. Clearly, no amount of mild weather is going to encourage the cocks to lay!

I think more hens are called for.

Friday 6th February 2009 – Snowed in

I am stranded at the top of our hill after a week of snow which at this height is simply refusing to budge. D did attempt the Cresta Run to the bottom a couple of times in an attempt to get me to civilisation and importantly paid work! Only one of the attempts was successful – the other resulted in me being stuck on a train for 3.5 hours going absolutely no where. I then had to be rescued to get me back up the hill – all very exciting but not very productive.

The hens are not impressed by the snow and have retreated to their shed – who can blame them?! I had hoped we might have had our first egg by now but clearly this cold spell has knocked that on the head – for the time being at least. I did give ‘hen towers’, an early Spring clean this morning – hopefully this will encourage some laying once the weather changes. The clean out has meant that the compost bins have benefited from a top up with chicken poo. With the pigs and hens, the compost bins are the clear losers in the race for the kitchen scraps. The compost boosted with some poultry muck should provide me rocket fuel for the garden!

Speaking of which, I am getting behind on garden jobs . I finally managed to find my favourite vegetable growing book only to discover that by now I should have cleared the garden, dug in the muck and have trays of seed potatoes chitting on windowsills. Clearly it would help if I could, one, actually get somewhere to purchase the seed potatoes and two, see the garden and merrily dig without breaking my spade!

The pigs seem to be having a jolly time huddled together in their palace – at least it is giving the field a bit of a rest from their ruthless digging. Mrs J’s daughter (still needs a name!) appears to be a rather grumpy girl and already has had a rather vicious swipe for my backside. There’s no room for unfriendly behaviour here – have decided that there is only one thing for it – once she’s produced – she’s for the sausage machine!!

Still no progress with the moles .