This has probably been the quietest, least active month since we've been on An Feirm Beag. I say that, of course but it isn't true, it's just that little or nothing has been done outside and consequently there are few if any pictures. Sorry folks you're just going to have to put up with me rattling on without many visual aids.
The big news of the month is that baby D is walking with conviction and has all the bumps, bruises and mild concussion to prove it. You don't know what adrenalin is until you see you baby falling backwards towards something hard and pointy only to see her recover and land on her bum. Covering up hard and pointy things has become the new going out but all the padding in the word doesn't dampen that thrill of blind panic you feel when she discovers some new and interesting way to toy with disaster.
One reason it's been such a quiet month on the farm is that it's been a busy month in the office. Web sites have been updated, training courses have been created and delivered, quotes have been issued, invoices have been posted and business plans have been pulled out of drawers, dusted off, messed about with and then promptly stuffed back in draws until the following week. The long and the short of it is that I seem to have found myself some reasonably predictable and somewhat stable employment. It's all having a very serious impact on my quality poultry time and I do love my ducks. Speaking of which HALLELUJAH!! we have duck eggs! I was convinced they were all male and just a bit gay but no we have fully fledged heterosexual ducks that actually lay eggs and a drake that likes girls, wonderful. Now all we need to do is prove he's not a Jafa
It was the dog attack that did it of course. Nothing like the treat of being eaten alive by a manic canine to concentrate the mind on the need for reproduction. The first thing I heard of course was F screaming. This is now quite a common occurrence, it will be "J the pigs are escaping!!" or "J get out of bed the poor ducks are starving!!" or in this case "OH MY GOD J THERE'S A DOG ATTACKING THE TURKEYS!!!". Now as this occurred at a time when I was holding a baby and was also in fact barefoot (honestly, chained to the kitchen sink most days), there was precious little I could do about it. I had to watch helplessly out a window; screaming baby under one arm, shoving shoes on with the other while my wife set out to do battle with the mutt, armed only with a sweeping brush and a look of steely determination.
The next half hour was a bit of a blur. I'd managed to get into some welly boots and was still holding the baby but had got outside to where turkeys, ducks and broilers were being scattered to the four winds by what seemed to be a small fluffy white husky. by the time I got there F had more or less chased the brute but in his wake he had left demented ducks, baffled broilers, traumatized turkeys and me, frog marching up and down, cursing and mumbling "getting a f@*#in' gun" and "shoot the f#&@er". it may not have been very helpful but it made me feel good and it was all I could do as for some reason I was still holding a baby.
As panic subsided we took stock. The ducks had all escaped injury, mostly by discovering an ability to fly which till then they had kept secret. The broilers, chicks really, had also escaped injury because they had been small and gone to ground and not moved. The turkeys however were in bits. Big, flappy and with a good turn of speed they were Fido's idea of a fun thing to play with. They were scattered all over the place and I thought I was going to have to spend the night ringing necks but in the end the casualty list was mercifully small. One by one they were persuaded to stand up and walk though I don't think the mental scars will ever heal (mine not the turkeys).
So Christmas has been saved, our baby is now a toddler and I'm rejoining the ranks of the gainfully employed. Like I say, it was a quiet month.
