under the applegum

finding our faraway tree

milkshake and crochet

julian

noah

Fu

Noah and Julian

Julian and fu

upside down

looking up

crochet hook

pakkun

bark stripping

tasty

peaceful pooches

on the quilt

sunlight

under the applegum

front door

sunbeam

so twisty

down to the faraway tree

Early Friday morning, we sat on the porch, third coffees on the table between us, me with my crochet, Julian with his moleskin, and we brainstormed all the things we’d love to achieve around the farm over the weekend.  Then we marked off the most important seven for Friday and set to work.  It was mostly a day of orchard planting.  The raspberry patch was finished off – 5 metres long by 2 metres wide, thoroughly dug over with old duck bedding, liberally seasoned with the neighbour’s horse poo, edged with timber and secured with a nice deep row of poultry netting, steel hoops and black netting.  Nothing can be left to chance around here.  If the ducks don’t get in with their destructive flat feet and jack hammering bills, or the rats and rabbits eat it down to a 1 inch stick, then the rosellas and king parrots annihilate every last bud. We’ve learnt the hard way.

Then we planted plums, pomegranates, peaches, blackcurrants and gooseberries.  At the moment the whole thing looks like a graveyard of sticks with a half dug pond piled with dirt around the edges.  Nothing to show off for sure.  But oh, when I look down from the kitchen window, I dream of what it will look like in a few years time.  The pond will be deep and full, edged by water plants with a lovely rock wall at one end, and ducks and geese cheerfully swimming round and round the water lilies.  Those fruit trees – including the already planted apples, pears, hawthorn and almond will be tall and blooming.  That raspberry patch will be glistening with fat juicy berries.  And off to one side will be the lovely wooden rotunda that Julian and I plot every time we stand amongst the fruit trees – a handmade octagon with no railings but wide steps leading into the orchard from each side and tall roof thickly covered in wisteria. Mmmmmm …..

Anyways – that was Friday’s list.  Yesterday’s was filled with niggledy little tasks that needed finishing off as well the building of a proper, functioning compost system, and the relocating of the sheep.  A big and busy list, that one, but oh so satisfying to tick each thing off.  And last night – when I looked out and could see our five dear sheep on the other side of the house fence – it felt just right.

This morning, we sat at the table with our third coffees and ambitiously checked off the next seven items.  We may even have said “And once we’ve done all that. we’ll start digging the next 10 metre long raspberry patch.” Yes, I ordered 20 more canes (on top of the 10 we planted Friday) and they’re arriving this week – eek!

First on the list … weed whack around the new sheep fence.  But by the time we got down there, we were already discussing number 2 – move the goat tethers over to the field next to the sheep so that they’d have plenty of shade from the nearby small gum grove.  We wandered down amongst the gums to pace out where we needed to start.  The grove was delightfully cool but sun speckled and the kangaroos have been doing a sterling job keeping down the grass.  It was almost the grove of our dreams.

Our talk turned away from weed whacking and goat tethering to … if we cleared this bit here, got rid of that clump of bracken, dragged these logs up to edge the herb garden.  Next thing, Julian was weed whacking in an ever increasing circle around the huge central apple gum whilst I raked and made bush turkey styled piles ready to be carted off to the bonfire.  We plotted where we would put a rustic wooden table and benches.  We ooohed and ahhhed about how lovely it would be to sit down here on a hot summer’s day with jugs of iced lemon and mint water.  I dreamed of slipping away to wile away the hours with needles, wool and books.

Then, pushing all thoughts of lists and chores away, Julian weed whacked us the perfect path back to the house where we made icy cold banana milkshakes, dug out the picnic quilt, coaxed Noah away from his laptop, and returned to the applegum.

Julian shook out the quilt and we all plonked down.  Through the trees, green fields dotted with cows, rolled away to the north, and mountains loomed to the west.  A spider scuttled across the quilt and Noah caught it in his gumboot – he says it was the first thing that came to hand.  A pair of kookaburras sat above us in the tree, cackling away.  Pakkun tried her hardest to share our milkshakes whilst Fu snuffled about in the grass, and the nearby sheep mooed.  I stitched away at my granny bolster cover, and Julian stripped the bark away from a narrow log he plans to turn into a tamper handle (pond digging stuff)

It was blissful and as I looked up I realised we were really sitting under the Faraway tree!  I pointed out the little doors and porches to Noah and stared up into the sun kissed, twisty turning branches wondering what Silky and Moonface were up to.  I don’t know that Noah was quite as bewitched as I :-)

I adored the Magic Faraway Tree books when I was little.  I read them over and over and over and wished, for the umpteenth time, that I could live a life as wonderful, mysterious and magical as the children in Enid Blyton’s books.  You know, I daresay this was the start of my passion for the English countryside.  It was patently obvious to me that the grand adventures of the Famous Five, the Adventurous Four and of course Jo, Bessie and Fanny could never happen in Australia.  You clearly had to be in the English countryside to camp out in abandoned castles, capture smugglers, rescue kidnapped European princes, and spend lovely days up a tree with the Faraway Tree folk.  Sigh.

And as I sat under our beautiful Faraway Tree, I realised that it was never the promise of that magical land at the top of the tree that really drew me into these books.  I even remember skipping over those bits.  What I truly loved were the homes the funny little people of Faraway Tree – and later, Roald Dahl’s Minpins and Mary Norton’s The Borrowers – created.  The cosiness, the warmth and welcome (mostly), the nooks and crannies, the corners filled with fascinating items, and especially the fabulous make do philosophy they all embraced as they built their wee homes, turning other people’s cast offs into the loveliest of belongings.

I didn’t care about running around in Candy Land or whatever had zoomed in that week.  I longed to peek into little sitting rooms, and take tea by the fireside with people whose lives revolved around the dear little homes they had built all by themselves.  I wanted to live there with them.  I wanted to build my own home just as lovely and creative as theirs. And I wanted them to come visit me.

Forty years later, and I don’t believe I’ve changed one bit :-)  Here we are, Julian and I, building our little home bit by bit.  Weekend by weekend.  Making use of what we find, what other people cast away.  Building it by hand.  Making it so utterly descriptive of just who we are, what we love, and what’s important to us.

Making it cosy.  Making it welcoming.  Making it creative.  Making it ours.

 

beautiful heads

the eccentricities of guinea fowl

in they crowded

safely tucked up for their first night

checking

where are you little guineas

very quiet

staying in

first two brave souls

then a few more

out flew the last

and the flock was whole

adore pecking

exploring

mohawks

beautiful feathers

beautiful heads

fluttering

Our guinea keets have grown up – remember when we bought them at just 4 weeks old! Well, two and a bit months later, it was time to move on out of their A-frame and into something a bit more comfy, more suitable for cosy sleeping, and with plenty of access to lovely pasture.

We did our research and discovered (we’d kind of guessed) that guineas love to fly and thus, they love a tree house which they can flutter up to each night.  Cool – building a tree house would be fun! However, being raised upon a post would limit the size we could build, and given that all 12 tiny keets have grown up into gorgeous plump fowl, complete with bizarre check pouches, black wiry mohawks and heads that are bluer by the day, it looks like we’ll need to build at least two, possibly three.  How cute will that look – three little tree houses grouped in the bottom corner of the garden – Julian even wants to build them little rope gangways so they can go visiting each other like Swiss Family Robinson!

So, it was off to the workshop, paper and pencil in hand, to survey the building supplies and work out what we could build.  Fox proof of course.  Decent ventilation.  A landing platform with a door that can opened by us from down below.  A floor frame that can be mounted on a post.  And perches.  Guineas love to roost.

Julian came up with the dimensions for the basic design – floor, walls, and roof.  My contribution was the corner door (an outdoor table top I’d bought for pennies at the dumpshop – sure it would be useful for something) with a triangular landing platform – I didn’t want to sacrifice roosting space :-) – and the little window.  I wanted the window bigger so I could peer in and see what they were up to.  But Julian was mindful of rain getting in – so it’s smallish.

It took a couple of days to build.  And the door’s not quite finished – Julian needs to buy the supplies so that it can be opened with a pulley – which is just a bit neat!

But it was ready enough for the guineas, especially given they need to be trained to live there.  You see, guineas aren’t the smartest of birds, or the homeliest, and according to our research, they would rather be like the Hamburgs and sleep in trees.  All very well, but we want to keep tabs on these little birds.  We want to know they are safe each night.  We want to find their eggs.  We want them to earn their keep as diligent pest controllers  And, truth be told, we want to roast some for supper!  Thus, they need to be trained to realise this is their home.  This is where the good stuff is.

So the idea is, you put the house on the ground at first surrounded by an electric fence so’s that you can (hopefully) keep track of them during the day, and herd them into their house at night.  Then, when they are all happy with this arrangement, you raise the house so they can (hopefully) fly up by themselves.  Eventually you remove the fence and whilst they are free to wander during the day, they will (hopefully) come back each night.  There’s a lot of hope ;-)

Our chickens manage this beautifully.  They have complete freedom to roam the farm during the day (apart from the vegetable beds) – they have their favourite corners, trees and hideouts, and a meticulously followed routine.  You know where to find them according to the time of day.  Then, an hour before sunset, they are back at their house, pottering about having a nibble and a drink and as soon as the light begins to fade, they take themselves up into their house and settle down to sleep on their perches.  Easy peasy.

Our ducks are pretty good too.  They roam about the house garden during the day and then an hour before sunset, I usher them down to the electric fenced yard in the bottom corner – in they waddle and now, after a week or so, they simply form a single line and trot on into their lovely blue house where they nestle down into the straw, chat to each other for a while, then tuck their beaks in and snooze away.

The geese are utterly hopeless.  Let’s not mention the silly geese.

And those guineas?  Well, they are highly eccentric.  The first night we simply transferred them via the big dog crate to their new abode and that was that.  The next morning, after letting out the ducks, Julian propped open the guineas’ door and we waited excitedly on the porch to watch them explode out into the field and delight in their new freedom.  They didn’t get it.  They stayed in that house all day, peering out the little window and occasionally even coming close to the door to see what on earth could be out there!?!?! But they just would not come out. We felt awful – sure that their two months in the a-frame had turned them into little prisoners who didn’t have a clue how to live on the outside.

Then, just when it was almost time to start putting all the other animals to bed, out popped two guineas.  They strutted about confidently, then after surveying the field, began yelling to their comrades.  The rest came out in pairs or threesomes.  Finally there was just one little guinea left on the inside and when she realised – poof!  out she exploded.  The flock was complete.

And oh how funny is that flock!  They move like a school of fish.  Up and down, back and forth.  And if one breaks away, that’s it, the whole flock explodes, they race about yelling, then within seconds, come back to form their flock and move off once more.  So funny!  By day five, they still don’t come out until around midday, but then, they flock round and round the field, pecking away at the ground, squawking at the top of their lungs, and occasionally one will flutter up to the cherry tree or outside the fence.  But the minute they realise they have separated from their flock, they are frantic to get back and join their always bobbing, beautifully feathered siblings.

But come bedtime …

The first night, we went down to the field as it was getting dark and really struggled to get those guineas back in their house.  It took ages and eventually we were chasing guineas round and round the field – they run like the road runner – hoping they’d run at the (turned off) fence, get caught in the netting, then we could finally catch them and pop them into their house.  Oy!  The second night, Julian declared we should just let them be.  Nope.  If we gave up so easily, they would never learn to love their home.  So it was back down to play chasey with the crazy birds.  They would herd to a degree but then, as soon as we neared the house they would stop dead, refuse to move another step, then one would break away and we’d be off – again.  Dreadful stuff.

The third night we went down a bit later, when the guineas had already formed a little pile next to the fence and gone to sleep.   They were so asleep that they barely stirred when we approached and were quite groggy when we woke them up – we were able to pick up two each and pop them into the house effortlessly.  Then we realised the guineas couldn’t see in the dark – they ran straight into the house and waterer. We also noticed, unlike the ducks who run away from the torchlight, these guys ran into it – they preferred the light and were afraid of the dark!  So we shone the torch in front of their path instead of behind them, and lo and behold, they didn’t stop when they reached the dark house but kept shuffling forwards until eventually we’d managed to push all of them in.

Tonight, we were sitting by the fire, the wind roaring outside, lamenting that we still had to get the guineas into their house (everybody was tucked up, except of course, the silly geese) and Julian wondered whether he could set up a light in their house to attract them.  A light!  A light!  The wonderful blog article I’d read on how to train the guineas to move into their homes had SAID to put in a light and Julian had laughed this off as way too much for the humble guinea fowl.

Rubbish!  It’s not a frivolity!  It’s what attracts them to their home and makes them feel secure.  We could set up a little solar panel with a light attached, turn it on an hour before sunset, and hopefully, once it’s dark, they’ll all be in and then we can turn it out!!!!

So we tested it tonight.  The poor little guineas were huddled next to the fence (right next to the charger – which emits a green light – duh!) so we put the big dolphin torch in the corner of their house, then gently encouraged them up and began herding them over to their house.  Well.  It was a miracle.  They were still a little sleepy, but so comforted by that warm glow and trotted on over.  We got 9 out of 12 in on the first pass, the next two went in on the second, and the final guinea ran in helter skelter when he realised he was the only one left outside in the dark.  The whole shenanigans took less than five minutes.

Dear little guineas :-) With their floppy cheek pouches, vulturine eyes, blueing heads and those gorgeous, gorgeous feathers.  They are truly divine – I’m so glad they are here!  And isn’t that just the lesson – it pays to remember good advice :-)

Well, you know where Julian is going tomorrow don’t you.  Back to the hardware store for supplies to wire up that guinea house light!  And I shall paint their little door.

 

 

on angle

The Duck & Goose :: my painted farm

the fluffy helper

so much mesh

working on the fox proofing

under the ramp

tempting them in

D72_5988

close up

flora and reuben

the feeder

the rotten rosella

tools

top

middle

close up rosella

all sone

at the end of the ramp

on angle

in we go

I love building animal houses with Julian.  It’s such fun puzzling out all the questions that must be answered each time we build a new house.  What shape and size do we need for this particular species? How big does the door need to be?  What kind of access do we need to the interior?  How are we going to clean it?  What kind of floor does it need?  How much ventilation?  Does it need to be fox proof – what a silly question – everything needs to be fox proofed!!!  What are we going to build it out of?  And how much will THIS cost!?!?!

We built our original six Indian Runner Ducks a sweet little A-frame.  However, we came home from collecting the Guinea Keets with a beautiful breeding pair of Appleyard Ducks (hello Flora and Reuben!) and come the Bega Young Poultry Auction, we found ourselves with two more dear little chocolate Runners (hello Alfred and Gretel!) and three gorgeous geese (hello Guiseppe, Madonna and Francesca!).  That little A-frame was just too little.  The ducks no longer liked going in at night and there was no room for a nest for their prodigious egg laying.  Flora took to hiding her eggs around the garden (she lays huge eggs almost every day) and the Runners were simply dropping theirs near the duck pond!  As for the geese – phht! – no hope.

A new house was needed – one with ample room for now and plenty of room for little ducklings come spring.  But the building supply pile was looking skimpy as were the building funds.  Hmmm.  Serendipitously, Mum found the solution!  Being an avid gardener, she often hangs out at her local garden centre and knows the owner well – he was lamenting that he had a huge pile of hardwood pallets that were taking up way too much room so Mum asked if we could have a few and he was more than happy for Julian to visit with the trailer!  Woot!

Pallet building has surely become an “in-thing” – look on Pinterest and you’ll find heaps of furniture built out of the humble pallet.  However, these misguided carpenters appear to mostly rip apart the pallets – a lot of effort for some pretty crappy timber.  We wanted to use ours whole – fast and sturdy.  So – two pallets for the floor, two for each long side, one for the back and two for a ramp – all screwed together.  A big hinged door made out of hardwood fence palings we sourced from the dumpshop.  Corrugated from the dumpshop for the roof – mounted on a bit of our building timber left over from the chicken house.  And the whole thing was mounted on besser block footings that Julian spent hours carefully digging into the ground and levelling.  This means the straw litter will filter through to the ground and all we’ll have to do is keep adding fresh straw to the top!  Works a treat in the chook house.

However, pallets are NOT fox proof.  The author of my favourite chicken book – The Small Scale Poultry Flock – says he keeps the skulls of the few predators that have breached his defences – so that he can push them through gaps in his building to see if they fit!  I reckon foxes probably have pretty flattish skulls so I’m into filling in every nook and cranny.  Julian thinks I should get myself a dead fox, let it decay and then test that bloody skull just to make sure!  He’s quite sure foxes are no where near as flat as that.  I don’t know.  There’s a reason so many stories and nursery rhymes have been written about foxes and their fondness for stealing poultry.

Anyways, the pallets lack of fox proofing meant I had to completely mesh the inside of the duck house with poultry mesh.  It didn’t take as long as I thought – but it was rather cramped and arm-exhausting work, stapling all that mesh on.  There sure won’t be any foxes dining at my duck house tonight :-)

But the BEST bit about building animal houses is that I get to decorate them when done :-)  As I’m sure you can guess dear folk, I loooooooove that bit.  And on Tuesday, after having a complete hissy fit and floods of tears over the rats eating my arrowroot, echinacea and elder, rather than spending the morning ranting at Julian and Noah about the unfairness of nature, or stewing on the porch, or sulking in my bedroom, I gathered up my paints and headed down to the duck house.  There was that beautiful big fencing paling door just wanting for a spot of prettiness.

I never really know the details of what I shall paint before I start.  I’m a bit like that.  I knew there would be a tree – with blossoms and apples and leaves all at once :-) I call it the Hayao Miyazaki art style (Japanese filmmaker – always has all his favourite flowering plants in flower at once no matter what the time of year ;-).  I knew there would be ducks.  Runners?  Appleyards? Whatever was right at the moment.

And I have to say, I am utterly thrilled to pieces with this work.  For the tree’s trunk and branches, I took my inspiration from the cherry tree that shades the duck house.  Then added my details – I’m especially pleased with the leaves – I managed to achieve a build up of colour that from a distance looks appliqued!  Grass underneath – with fallen blossoms and fruit.  Then Reuben and Flora – the runners always run about as one flock so I couldn’t just pick a couple out.  Whereas Reuben and Flora – well, they’re like an old married couple :-)  So identifiable and so much character.  Perfect for painting.  The other side of the tree needed something but there wasn’t enough room for more ducks so I thought about what the ducks love – their feeder!  Even though they spend most of their day foraging around the garden, they do love to greedily guzzle up a slurp of scratch mix as soon as they burst out of their house each morning.  And finally, one of those pesky Rosellas.  They ate all our cherries and apricots last spring.  And now they love to hang out on the roof of the duck house and in the bare branches of the cherry tree, waiting to swoop down and have a little nibble of the scratch mix.  Buggers.  They’re exquisitely beautiful – but they are buggers.

I also feel, with this piece, that I’m really growing a style I love and that feels doable.  I want to paint much much much more.  Julian loves it so much, he went straight to the workshop and put together a big “sign” made out of marine grade ply with a rustic paling frame (he even mitred the corners) for me to paint “The Duck & Goose” on – we’ll hang it on the front of the house like an old fashioned English pub sign :-)  You see, we were hopeful our three geese would move in too – but they are so bolshie and just won’t.  Means the electric fence has to stay up – and means they are not as safe as I’d like, but what can you do.  Geese that refuse to go inside and Hamburg chickens that sleep in the gum tree!

We’ll have to come up with a different style house for the geese – I’m thinking an on the ground kind of lean-to that has a fox-proof floor and a very very easy to navigate door – they’re a bit dim those geese.  Oh well – whatever, it is, there’ll be more gorgeous opportunities to keep working on my painted farm.

to popcorn (verb) :: a feathery, explosive pop high into the air made by guinea keets

in the brooder

On a recent visit to a nearby farm, we met our first Guinea Fowl.  There were 2 males, with their exquisite speckledy feathers and striking blue heads, shepherding a little flock of keets (guinea chicks) about the garden – sadly the hen had recently been taken by a fox but the males stepped up to the mark and were enthusiastically practising hands-on parenting.

We were utterly enchanted!  They were so pretty and different – their bodies are very very round and their heads are like tiny blue periscopes with red trimmings – and they are very independent.  They will amble about your garden all day, eating bugs and weeds without causing damage to your plants, and then at night, if trained, will return to a little house to safely roost.  They  also, apparently, make for a delicious roast.

Once home, I jumped on Gumtree and searched for some of our own.  There were not too many about and most were tiny keets, requiring weeks of care in a heated brooder box – something we didn’t have.  But then I found 12 in nearby Moruya that were already 4 weeks old.  They were still living in a brooder box but did not need extra heat as their feathers were already fluffing out nicely.

That weekend, Julian and I knocked up a brooder box – using two Ikea Gorm bookshelves as our base structure – and the following Tuesday Noah and I made the trek north to collect our new feathered babies.  The lovely owners also had a pair of Appleyard Duck breeders that they were looking to rehome as they were focussing on Muscovies – who were bullying the Appleyards.  “No problem!” we said delightedly “We’ll bring extra boxes!”

Oh it was such a funny pick up :-)  The farm was lovely – an old establishment with a dear little wooden farmhouse and beautiful orchard with ducks, chickens and guinea fowl roaming everywhere.  The keets were in a guinea pig house – transferring them into our big box, laid with pea straw mulch was filled with unstoppable laughter.  Keets are like feathered popcorn!  You open the lid and pow!  They shoot up into the sky every which way.  The owners and Noah were darting about plucking up the little keets as they landed whilst I was in charge of opening and slapping back down the box lid.  We were beside ourselves!

Then the farmer collected the Appleyards – a much more dignified affair.  They are majestic ducks – beautifully feathered and calm, with sweet faces and exaggerated waddles.  On our journey home their boxes were quiet and still – the keets’ box bumped and clattered and cheeped all the way home as 12 little popcorns boinged about all over the place :-)

brooder box

After almost 2 weeks in their brooder box it was obvious our funny little keets needed to move to bigger quarters.  So, yesterday the 3 of us set to transforming the unfinished chicken tractor into a guinea keet home.

chicken tractor

on the inside

cutting the mesh

stapling the msh

Since it was such a hot day, we rolled the tractor on logs into the shade and set to work.  One side panel of mesh was cut out and turned into a wooden framed hinged door.  We added another panel of mesh to the triangular end.

Julian removed the corrugated metal panels that provided the little, dry sleeping quarters and we popped in struts and gum tree roosts.  It’s possible Julian got a bit carried away when searching for good roost material – so we added the lovely big twisty end of the branch as a bit of play equipment for them.

adding the roof struts
roost material

light on the gum

creases in her stockings

trimming them up

Do you see how the bark has crinkled in the bend of the branch?  Looks all the world for like the back knees of over worn stockings doesn’t it – truly beautiful how something so very hard can be so flexible and tactile.

measuring

back on with the roof

The whole process was such a lovely family affair.  That’s certainly an aspect of our new life on this little farm that I love.  Our cottage is so small and the farm so remote (well, not really by Australian standards, but certainly by inner suburban Melbourne standards!) that we just gravitate so easily to doing things together.  It was a blissful afternoon of building and chatting and laughing in the loveliest of settings …

furry protea

beautifully lit

watching over us

Thankfully, we finished all the essential bits in time to transfer the keets from their brooder to their new a-frame home just before the sun began to set.  And oh how the loved it!

Noah and I carried the brooder across the top field (where the sheds are) and down into the fenced cottage garden (where all our poultry live).  Then we once more played the highly entertaining game of “stop that keet from popcorning up up and away!”

They are dear little birds – so warm and feisty, so pretty and full of character and purpose.  One by one we dropped them into their a-frame – at first they all scurried into the shelter at the back.  But once they were all in and felt a little more confident, they began toddling about – pecking at the grass with amazed delight, checking out the play branch, eating and drinking.  In a completely anthropomorphic way I am sure they couldn’t believe their world could be so beautiful!

One brave little critter – he is the biggest with a beautifully striped head – popcorned up to the roost and strutted back and forth, stretching out his feathers whilst cheeping down to his mates – you can see him in the fifth photo down from here.

And of course, they popcorned over and over again.  Finally they have the room to do what it seems they love doing best.  Oh they were so funny!

At one stage, one was like a domino.  She popcorned up into the sky and triggered all the rest, one after another – the whole a-frame was chaotically filled with little outstretched wings and fluttering orange legs and feet zooming up into the air and down again.  Sadly I didn’t have the camera – but you can see one little lavender one doing it in the left hand corner of the fourth photo down from here.

I’ll have to try and make a little film of it for us :-)
theyre in

exploring

so beautiful

popcorn fluttering tryin out the roosts

with fox proofingBeing the rather anxious type I am, I dreamt about our little keets all night long – and not nice dreams.  Oh no.  In the vignettes that woke me up every couple of hours, there were foxes sneakily digging under the electric fence and then under the a-frame and demolishing our little flock, or the little birds were all shivering to death in the cool night air, or had tipped over their water and were dying of thirst.

Of course none of these things happened – though I am never dismissive about the very real risk of foxes – and this morning when I went down in the early, mist swirling hours before the sun had properly risen, there they all were, cheerfully bopping about the place.  Phew!

One day we hope to have all our poultry free to roam all of the garden – not just within their electric fenced fields.  Both Julian and I love the notion of looking out from the verandah and seeing ducks waddling past to the pond, chickens snoozing in the shade, and guinea fowl roosting in our trees.  Before that happens we will need many more hours of work on the cottage fence, new gates and – if Noah and I get our way – a lovely brave and diligent Maremma to guard them all.

Until then we will potter along with our timber and screws, mesh and corrugated, building our little flocks homes and nests and shelters, and delighting in their antics.

This farming life sure is good.