A Mini Country Smallholding in Cornwall – Part 5, Ladies! Ladies!

Posted on September 21, 2018 by Admin

Hens. There is something so charming about them, so quintessentially country. I am sure most people who muse about country life imagine a beautiful feathered gal flouncing along a cottage border, delicately picking out a bit of rosemary here and a spot of sage there. Eeeek! Nope. Reality check required. Lovely yes they are, and if you did have two seconds free, as a smallholder (and mother) it would be wonderful to while away an afternoon, watching their merry ways, picking and scratching the earth for bugs, and lounging in dust baths in the sunshine. So … lovely, yes but delicate they ain’t. They could churn up a manicured garden quicker than a JCB.

And oddly enough it was hens that drove our house making decision. A big garden, lovely as the ones we’d viewed were, just wouldn’t really do. The little ladies could massacre it in no time at all, and let us be honest, we would all like free range to be free range. While looking gorgeous, they are also quite mucky, for want of a better expression, pooping everywhere, continuously … nearly as much as they breath in air. Quite hilarious really, reminding me of the ladies at court in days yonder, in their great layered skirts going wherever they please! In essence, we needed a bit of scrub-land that could handle the onslaught. So great luck that we found our 1.5 acre plot. We started by bringing 10 White Sussex home to at last start our live-stock family. (Light Sussex as they are dual purpose, good layers but also good table birds – thinking like small-holders from the off). We decided to house them in the stable, building them a tall perch, hopefully too high for Mr Fox, chicken meshing the windows for safety and adding mobile nest boxes in a corner. They settled in, providing us with beautiful creamy, proud, bright, golden yoked eggs.

Our plot is surrounded by fields, and neighbours had dutifully warned of fox and badger attacks over the years in the village. With this in mind, we initially let them out of the stable (which is light and has good free-ranging space in it’s own right) only when we were in the field to ensure they got used to their housing accommodation while we acted as guards. Over-time as things went well we soon let out the gals early in the morning, they enjoyed the full field all day long, eating merrily the bugs worms and ticks! (I will write more thoroughly on the subject of ticks in future posts).

After months of chicken bliss, one darker afternoon, I roamed up as usual to plant some vegetable plugs from the greenhouse. The hens were looking somewhat startled. I could see nothing out of the ordinary, but my two labradors, Rhys and Thom thought otherwise. Despite their age they immediately started to sniff the long grass and appeared on a mission to ‘find’ something. Alarmed by their concern I hunted too alongside them, till alas I found a white trail of feathers. Heart racing I followed the feather trail … leading me to the edge of the field where it bordered with our neighbours land by a stone wall … right up to a fox den – or at least I think that is what is was drawing on my extensive knowledge of The Gruffalo with my two 3 year olds.

I shan’t repeat what I called Mr Fox, but drastic measures had to be taken for their safety. We locked them in the stable fearful that he or she should strike again, in broad daylight! Cheeky so-and-so! But what about the free ranging? Something major was needed. Something courageous and brave to protect our poor gals 24/7. After some considerable thought we came up with a plan. What about Alpacas? 🙂

Verm X Layers pellets, 20 kg for hens, great for continuously creating a non-friendly for worms gut environment day in day out, available from Amazon

Fancy Feed mixed corn for hens 20 kg, available from Amazon

Snowflake Dust Extracted Bedding 20 kg, available from Amazon

Light Sussex hen dust bathing

Our Light Sussex hens with growing chicks

Light Sussex hen in the sun

A Mini Country Smallholding in Cornwall – Part 3, Talking Turkey

Posted on September 4, 2018 by Admin

Jumping ahead a bit from the last post and to the present day, I have to share our turkey tales. The hot summer is at an end, the autumn crisp air is starting to return. A month before, despite the intense heat of 2018, we felt keenly the small-holders dream, of growing our own Christmas dinner! Quick Google search, best turkeys for the table … Norfolk Bronze, how many weeks would it take from egg to table? 20 weeks, ok we can just about fit this in (please note I’d say you would need longer and most turkey farmers start in June).

We bought the incubator and heat lamp and eagerly awaited the bronze turkey eggs. Via the post, they arrived promptly in a very well packed polystyrene box. 6 eggs. We popped them into the incubator, 28 days to go. We adhered to the rules for the correct temperature and humidity throughout the process.

Day 26: I began talking to them, and even singing – 2 rolled in response, I kid you not, even a turkey egg moves to cover it’s ears. Then nothing, not a pip. We are getting worried now, where are the turkey babes? Where are the cracks? Day 28 came and went.

Then hoorah!, day 29 one small crack appeared, followed by … a tiny hole in one of the eggs.

But alas, time ticked on and nothing followed. Back to Google. The golden rule is … don’t interfere. However, many people have and saved a bird’s life. It’s a fine line to tred and timing is key.

Well our little fellow had now been panting at the hole for days and getting nowhere, we decided to break said golden rule and start a rescue mission, we took out the egg and removed carefully some of the shell, then popped him back in. Still nothing, we repeated the process … still nothing. He continued to pant and struggle. We then helped with the membrane. This was so thick, akin to heavy duty polythene. Poor fellow couldn’t break it and not for the want of trying.

We left him overnight, thinking, hoping he would break on through. Breakfast next morning, alas, nothing at all. We’d reached the point of no return. We took the egg out and slowly, carefully helped the baby turkey from it’s shell. He was alive, just, exhausted by his journey. We made him a little nest from kitchen roll and let him rest, poor soul.

We checked the other eggs, as it was so late in the day post due hatch date. 3 had nothing at all, not even fertilised, 1 possibly had started but failed very early doors. 2 left, our little fellow and another. The another I guess was the 2nd sing song egg roller. He hadn’t made it bless, too weak to crack the egg open. OB1 was our only hope.

Step by step, he started to drink as we dipped his beak into water. We kept him warm in the incubator. He fluffed up. The little man had other issues. Very crooked feet and splayed legs. He couldn’t walk at all and kept rolling over and collapsing. Back to Dr Google. The answer? Scandals. We made a pair of lightweight cardboard bird shoes, and lightly taped his toes in the correct position with medical tape. We also made a fine tape loop around his legs to keep his splayed legs in position to give him better stability. Finally a sandpaper floor for traction. By now he had eaten turkey crumbs so we stayed optimistic. Off he and we went to bed overnight. We all kept our fingers crossed, not toes, under the circumstances.

Morning came, he looked quite perky. We removed the footwear, low and behold his feet looked much better. And wait for it, he stood on them! He wasn’t moon-walking yet but he looked pretty good. Throughout the day his legs grew stronger, and he exercised on his toes, stretching upwards. Turkey Pilates. Later on, about 5pm we removed the splayed leg brace and unbelievably he could walk with his legs together.

Our little man is now in the brood box under a heat-lamp.

Good news, he’s doing well and we are all agreed he’s not for Christmas (or Easter husband), now all we have to do is find him some turkey friends!

Our little poult in the incubator, just out of the egg.

Our little turkey poult with his leg brace for splayed legs.

Looking bright, he can stand and walk.

Well done little fellow!

A Mini Country Smallholding in Cornwall – Part 2, Fencing & Mowing

Posted on August 31, 2018 by Admin

“Blimey we’d better cut that grass!” This was the mantra we found ourselves repeating during year 1 and the beginning of year 2 at our Cornish smallholding. The 1.5 acre plot is steep and I believe no one had ever managed to drive a vehicle up it, so hiring a tractor to do the job was a no go. It thus stayed as meadow-land for 1 year and 3 months … until … we got scything!

Now I love my husband dearly, but Aiden Turner he ain’t. I must say I thought his idea of scything the grass was hilarious at first but I take it all back. Step aside Poldark, my husband is brilliant. I am no expert, but if you relax into a quiet rhythm and your scythe is sharp then the green green grass slices down to a clean carpet. It’s also good for the planet and no where near as heavy as a petrol strimmer that would take the same side to side action to complete.

We started to carve out paths across the plot leaving swathes of long grass, natural thistles and flowers for the bees and butterflies. We created a play area for our two girls with the hope that they would be wholey occupied and happy while we addressed smallholdery things, aka hard graft. For the wider grass cutting areas, we used a petrol mower, post scything to finish off.

Now really and truly we wanted natural lawn mowers, maybe sheep, maybe goats, but had not mastered the dark art of stock fencing. We needed to address a long 130m stretch along one side of the field before livestock would be safe to roam freely. This most valued skill was also needed to address a smaller creature, the rabbit. We needed a rabbit free zone for our vegetable patch and thus needed a safety rectangle to keep Peter and friends at bay.

We decided to start with the vegetable patch as our greenhouse, now May, was bursting with plants. We ordered the posts, going for slow grown Norwegian timber, bought the one strand wire to run around the posts, and chicken wire mesh to drop down from the wire, creating an L shape at floor level to prevent rabbits burrowing under. We attached the floor mesh with a few tent pegs. The grass grew through and secured it properly.

Hand Stock fencing is a great skill to have under your belt as a smallholder. You do need the tools which can be a bit of an outlay. The post rammer for whacking in the posts, good wire-cutters and the strainer for keeping things tight. The hog ring tool is also a handy bit of kit to secure mesh to the wire.

We knocked together a gate from leftover wood and voila, our vegetable patch was complete! Now came the question … to dig or not to dig!

Broccoli, albeit it ended up bolting from being in the greenhouse too long.

Peas, I think I may well stick to planting directly into the soil as I have found this a better method for stronger plants.

I placed plastic bags over plants while propagating to keep out Mr field mouse.

Kale, dill and lettuce growing under tomatoes, I won’t do this next year as the tomato crop in the greenhouse was a little lacking, the outside ones all grown from shoots of just these 3 plants have been amazing, although we have had a super hot and dry summer.

Things moving on despite the cold start to 2018.

Leeks, celery and broad beans (the first things planted).

Runner beans, these are still providing crops now, late August 2018.

We’d better cut that grass!

To mow, or to scythe?

Fenced vegetable patch in the distance.

Ever faithful labs.

Addressing 130m stock fencing.

Enjoying the view after fencing.

Sun setting over the Tamar Valley

A Mini Country Smallholding in Cornwall – Part 1, Finding Our New Home

Posted on August 30, 2018 by Admin

Although loving our country life as it was, husband and I longed to live the life of a country smallholder. Having spent years enthralled by countless repeats of River Cottage, My Dream Farm and It’s Not Easy Being Green, we were charmed by the magic of growing our own vegetables, eating our own eggs and maybe even rearing a few sheep and pigs.

To be fair it seemed out of reach, as another dream and miracle had come true for us. We have been blessed with two baby girls, twins! To say the baby years were intense is an understatement and we were somewhat preoccupied for the first year of their precious lives.

After year 1 however we decided to make the bold move and move house. Now or never! The girls would be coming up to their second birthday and we would need to know where we were living to ensure their new nursery and school.

After many viewings we were optimistic but a little bit hit by the financial reality of our dream. We saw many beautiful detached period cottages in big manicured mature gardens, but the exercise really honed our checklist. We wanted no street lights, in order to enjoy the perfect inky black skies and bright stars of the Tamar Valley, we actually loved the area we were in already and wanted to stay there and we needed space for chickens to scratch around in and make a mess, a space where you could have a pig roast and dance about with corn in your hair. We needed an acre really. The house itself was way down on our priority list. Thing was, to meet the criteria on our budget was extremely rare.

Until … our new home came on the market. A period house, built in 1840 of stone blocks, much like our beloved old cottage, but my god way bigger. It had an enclosed safe garden for the girls and wait for it … a 1.5 acre plot just behind the garden! Yippee! It was however, a pigsty. I kid you not the place stank to high heaven as it had been so neglected, it was damp, sticky, dirty and had been home to more animals than Bristol Zoo. However despite the stench and filth we both loved it. Weird I know but luckily we both saw through the muck to it’s romantic potential, and my god the view from the field was amazing, worth the trek up the sharply steeped terrain – well … it’ll keep us all fit!

The day of the move was intense. We had to stay in a nearby self-catering annex on a cow farm for several days to give a team of contract cleaners time to blast out the residue of the past. We moved in on day 3. What a mess, but we were all excited. The girls, now two years old, had great fun running around and losing mother in the extra rooms we now had. We were so used to an open plan small miners cottage that we lost them several times in the rambling floor plan of the house. We walked around the field as much as we could drinking in the ruralness of it, but year 1 was consumed by make do and mending the house to make it at least habitable. We painted the interiors white to ‘make clean’, fixed all of the radiators, plastered walls, corrected damp spots and ripped up carpets, cleaning and linseeding floorboards as we went. We felt the pull of the land, after all that’s why we moved in, but simply could not fit in the time to set-up a smallholding alongside the mammoth task of making good the house. Not fancy, just liveable.

Christmas year 1 came and went and ushered in 2018. A freezing cold icy start to the New Year that went on way into April, but as soon as the frost broke we started planting vegetable seeds in the greenhouse, Hoorah! We were off the mark. Once that first broad bean hit the soil we were on our way, our smallholding journey had begun!

Work on the sitting room

The girls helping!

It’s white and clean!

White!

Cleaning the greenhouse

View from the top of the smallholding.

Looking onto the woods.

Brights skies.

Ever faithful labs.

River Cottage Collection DVD: We loved this series, well worth a watch for the would be smallholder, the genuine Dorset neighbours featured in it really made the series magical, available from Amazon

River Cottage All Seasons DVD: Great follow up, available from Amazon

My Dream Farm with Monty Don

J’adore La’Bradors

Posted on September 30, 2012 by Admin

I do love my dogs!

They are such joyous creatures, grinning, wagging and so happy to start a new day every morning. Ah … pure happiness. The mud, mess and lack of emotional physical restraint are balanced by the unconditional love emmitted every second of their precious lives. I know that with four paws on my shoulders and two over enthusiastic tongues lapping at my head, this is indeed part of the labrador package.

My two boys, Rhys and Thom are chocolate. Please do not scoff game shooters … I will state proudly and with 100% certainty that Rhys will retrieve as good if not better than any black or yellow lab …… and Thom … is well … Thom. Thom is fantastic at sleeping infront of a roaring fire and dreaming about retrieving … he’s more senior management.

I repeat everyday to them how handsome they are and they reward me with their regal upright pose and tilted head.

I will one day stay true to my self made promise and paint them, a portrait, probably in oils surrounded by an ornate gold gilt frame, befitting of their status.

In the meantime, I have found some labrador must haves. It has long been a country tradition to adorn your home with animal motifs … the hare … the fox … the pheasant … and so too the labrador retriever …

Is there anything on this earth more adorable than a handsome hound … (yes husband, I love you too).

Bye for now

Evans Lichfield Cushion

Emma Bridgewater Half Pint Chocolate Labrador Mug

Ladies Labrador Shopper

Emma Bridgewater Half Pint Black Labrador Mug

The Labrador Company The Eaton Tote Shoulder Bag

The Labrador Company The Eaton Molly Bag

Hot Cast Bronze Sculpture Labrador Cufflinks

Labrador Bronze Statue

Bee Widow

Posted on September 27, 2012 by Admin

I am a bee widow.

Since undertaking bee keeping my husband has 20,000 gals to keep him occupied. Their ‘boudoirs’ consist of two hives. One cedar wood and one polyhive.

I am all for the bee plight and I will write further on this in a future post. The declining bee population is cause for much concern and will effect us all. The more bee keepers, the better for everyone. However, that said, I had not expected my husband’s bee adoration to be quite so fuelled. At any given spare moment it’s bee time. Bees need feeding, inspecting, mollycoddling and watching … I suspect the hives have been decked out in Sanderson fabric and tulle. Aside from practical bee time, there is research bee time, committee bee time, course bee time and the bee jollies. This has left myself, the labradors and hens feeling quite bereft.

I must say … the bees are a sore point … quite literally …

I have frequented the apairy several times. A beautiful tranquil place in a Cornish field with a stream. The two hives share the green space with a couple of ponies, sheep and ducks. It really is idyllic and in fairness I can quite see why this lovely patch of Cornwall has it’s allure – away from the DIY restoration and chaos of the cottage.

The last time I visited, I did so to take photographs of the apairy for my husband. It was a drizzly day a la 2012 summer. I did not heed advice to wear the visitors’ bee suit, not I, I’ll be fine. I took an array of ‘husband in bee suit with bees’ pictures as directed. All went swimmingly well albeit the gals did seem a little het up re: the weather. I can’t blame them, we all feel the same. Damn that jet stream.

Duty completed, I relaxed to watch the ponies going about their Sunday routine, while my husband chopped and collected wax or similar off the bottom of frames.

Bees are not so bad after all … what a charming hobby … I am so looking forward to the honey.

BAM, out of the tranquil still … one furious mad madam flings herself at my cheek! A second later … bees, everywhere. One big buzz rings in both ears. From my right eye I see Bee 1 aligning herself for another shot. Ow! A sting lodges itself into my cheek. The harlot! The others, possibly four, encircle my head ready to charge. Close your eyes! Now feeling them, having landed on target, crawling amongst my hair, I prompt them to move with my swatting hands. They become furious … jumping … crawling … flying … buzzing …

I release my hairband and shake out my hair. Oh no, these femme fatales are on a kamikaze mission and will not back down. Realising a retreat to be the only option, I run, run, run away from the attack. Shouting for my husband, shaking head, dancing, jumping and running in loops around the field … two more feisty moos go in for the kill. Sting two and three catch the top of my head.

Husband appears in protective suit with smoker … “don’t worry … I see her”. HER! Bah … the mistress! With a few puffs of smoke the concubines fly off.

I am in shock … pain and feeling mighty sorry for myself.

“They thought you were a bear” husband offers with a cheerful informative face. “Yes, as I’m taking wax … they think it’s a honey attack … the guard bees go out to look for anything that resembles a bear”.

What! I am 5 feet 10, I have on brown wellington boots, dark green / brown cords, a brown knit top and long brown hair! I am practically Yogi, Chubaka or similar !!!!!

Yes husband, that bit of informaton would have been better dispatched pre bee visit … or possibly pre when I decided to decline my white bee suit!

Retreating back to the cottage I lay out on the sofa dousing my wounds with vinegar. My ever faithful labradors licking any exposed flesh in sorrowful pity.

Four further days of pain and recovery eventually ensues.

I have not been back to the apairy since … the bees will be packed up to over winter in the next week or so. I will take the downtime to work through the bee trauma and overcome my bee apprehension.

The moral of the tale must be … always but always wear a bee suit when near to random chap inspecting bees. Have complete respect and due regard for this arm of the womens institute. These females are crazed warriors protecting fearlessly what is rightfully theirs.

Well yes I do have respect for my adversaries and I will don the suit without question when spring comes … but ha … he’s mine for the winter ladies … you can forego your honey trap for a few months and buzz right off!

Bye for now

Country NikNaks Blog

Posted on September 21, 2012 by Admin

Welcome to the new Country NikNaks blog.

Country NikNaks is based in Cornwall, nestled in the beautiful Tamar Valley, right on the Cornwall / Devon border. This blog is an area where I hope to share with you my countryside knowledge that I’ve gathered to date, whilst being lucky enough to live in this part of the world. I will share the ups and the downs … from countryside crafts, baking, hen keeping, bee keeping (thanks husband!), home brewing (wine & beer … thanks again husband!), foraging, bread making and home remedy tips to heal animals … to my obsession with country interiors and all things pretty.

We live in a 19th century modest miners cottage with three bedrooms … where we have just about got the downstairs habitable, with the help of local builders and lots and lots of back breaking, arm aching work undertaken by myself and my nagged husband.

The upstairs … is still very much in a state of flux, so as I pull down old plasterboard, begin to lime plaster walls, and start to point and point and point again (!!!!!) old granite walls, I’ll keep a diary incase you find it useful.

Along with my ever suffering husband who is relentlessly subjected to a barage of gingham and polka dots, we share our house with 14 hens, 2 bee hives (kept in the field up the lane) and two rather rambunctious waggy chocolate labradors called Rhys & Thom.

Plans coming up soon … starting the upstairs … chipping off 70’s plaster to unveil the 160 year old granite blocks … (romantic) … and mouse / squirrel / spider / wasp nests within (not so romantic) … planning a supper party for October that will include foraged ingredients … along the lines of hawthorn jelly and pheasant … homemade honey beer IPA the step by step guide … getting ready for Christmas … how to make Sloe gin … and orange / cinnammon and pine dried decorations … beeswax candles … how to make them … and so on …

I’ll also post some articles on what’s gone before … tears, tantrums and DIY renovation … favourite mad chocolate lab pastimes … making honeymead … blackberry and blackcurrent wine … bee keeping for beginners and lots more …

Bye for now