Do near misses come in threes?

It’s been an eventful Saturday to say the least. First, we wake up to find that the toilet is not-quite-blocked. Then I accidentally let the dog loose on the road, and finally, we nearly get stuck in a flash flood.

You don’t realise how lucky you are in the UK until something stops working, be that your water supply, electricity, or road network. This morning we realised we had a problem with our plumbing. Our toilet was still functional, but something was not quite right. We needed to go into town to buy a plunger.

I took Holly out while My Taller Half got breakfast. It had been raining all night, so we just went to the local field to have a run around. There were some roadworks nearby that Holly was very interested in and before I realised what had happened, she was running off down the road to investigate. Recall had gone out the window, and I am very grateful that the car she ran in front of contained an observant driver. Holly thought it was a great adventure. I was in a mild state of shock.

That drama over, we were off to Crook. The A689 isn’t exactly level, and there are a few places that tend to collect surface water, but the drive into town was rather fun. There was a convoy of cars in front, so we knew the water was safe enough to drive through. Most of the water was on our side of the road, so we were confident of a safe and easier drive back.

Twenty minutes later on our return from Crook we realised we’d made a big mistake. The rain was no worse than before, but water was streaming down from the hills. There was now more water than road, with each flooded section deeper and longer than the last. Twice I thought we weren’t going to make it.

But make it we did. Other drivers must have been caught out after us, the water was rising so fast.

So that’s three near misses. Near misses come in threes, right. Don’t they?

Bedraggled. No chickens feature in this story, but I couldn’t resist sharing this

A spring and a skip

WinterSpring: this brambling seems reluctant to start his migration. Photo taken 17 April

Winter finally loosened its icy grip late last month. Almost overnight the world turned green, and living things across the land breathed an audible sigh of relief.

Now the promise of summer is teasing us (but wait, we haven’t had spring yet). Everything is behind, and some things, like my plum tree and forsythia hedge, are not even trying.

This is Holly’s first spring, and she is loving the long grass and new scents. She also loves sheep and lambs, but is slowly learning that stalking is more fun than chasing.

Holly doing her best to ignore red grouse on the fell, even when they explode from beside the path

It is also the first spring for my pond. I’ve introduced a few plants and already water beetles and pond skaters have made it their home. I could watch them, mesmerised, for hours.

The pond skaters approve of the pond

Finally, this is my first spring attempting to garden with both a young dog and four chickens. Holly gets less free time in the garden now (until she learns she can’t eat the chickens), but while the puppy damage is healing, new scars are appearing curtesy of the chickens. I’m sure we’ll find a happy medium eventually…

Don’t be fooled by that innocent expression – chickens are garden wrecking machines

While we all hope for a better summer than last year, we hold our breath to see what impact such a long delay in spring weather will have on us, our wildlife, and our farmers.

Finally, the trees have decided it’s warm enough to get out of bed. Sycamore bud

The mysterious case of the disappearing chicken

We have chickens! The run arrived early January but it took us until the Easter holidays to finally get round to getting the chooks.

We have chickens!

So far they’ve dutifully stayed inside the garden gate, but this afternoon one of them sneaked out while I wasn’t looking. I don’t know how – I was in the garden myself at the time but I saw and heard nothing.

Earlier I’d been cleaning their house. Two of the chickens took great interest in this, hopping in and out of the coop and generally failing to be helpful. They continued to pop in for regular progress updates while I waited for the floor to dry. Eventually I got the hint that they wanted some alone-time in the nest box (that, and the floor had finally dried) so I put their bed back down.

Hazel Chicken went straight into the nest box and settled down to lay her egg. It was then that I realised there were only two other chickens in the garden. Ivy Chicken, our speckledy hen, was nowhere to be seen.

My first thought was that she’d sneaked into the house (they are really keen to come indoors, but as Holly is still determined to eat them this is a Bad Idea). My second was that she’s found a secret place in the garden to lay her egg.

No sign of Ivy Chicken in the garden, so I went upstairs to double check she wasn’t in the house and to see if I could spy her out of the window. Sure enough, I caught a glimpse of a chicken inspecting my neighbour’s daffodils.

My Taller Half checked out my neighbour’s garden. As there’s not much of a fence between the garden and the main road, I headed off to look for signs of roadkill. No sign of chickens. Had she wandered off with the ducks on their circuit of Wolsingham gardens?

While My Taller Half checked out the Duck Route, I had a look in the nest box. This had previously been occupied by Hazel Chicken, and I’d already retrieved her egg so I know for sure Ivy Chicken wasn’t there earlier. But guess who was settled down in the nest box waiting for her egg? Yup, don’t know how she sneaked past us both, but Ivy Chicken was back home. That, or as My Taller Half believes, I was hallucinating.

Willow Chicken, she’s a Coral Nick and is Top Hen

Rowan Chicken. She’s a Copper Black and is independent minded but very docile

Ivy Chicken, she’s a Speckledy and is a little bit naughty

Hazel Chicken, she’s a Gingernut Ranger and is very friendly

Eggs! This is what it’s all about

Chicken Info

Our chickens came from Durham Hens in Tow Law. They have a good selection of hybrids and pure breeds, and our chooks were very quick to settle in and were easy to handle from day one.

We were planning to get rescue chickens from the British Hen Welfare Trust. Unfortunately we were never available on their rehoming days. Maybe next time…

Our chicken run is the Midi Dell by Smiths Sectional Buildings. The build quality is excellent, and the run is pretty and blends into our garden.

Um, happy equinox

Today is the vernal equinox. From tomorrow and for the next six months day will beat night in their perennial struggle for supremacy (well, for the Northern Hemisphere anyway). It’s also officially the first day of spring.

Not many people in the UK will be celebrating.

Late February and early March whispered much about the promise of spring. Now we are facing April and that promise feels like a distant dream.

There is nothing unusual about finding lingering snow patches in Weardale until late into spring, but this March has turned from teasing sunlight to bitter, relentless snow. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced snow on the equinox before. Today’s blizzards were not Winter’s fleeting kiss goodbye, but a promise of more to come.

Normally I love snow, but I really want winter to go away now. Come back spring. Please…

The view from my window this afternoon. Did you know it’s the spring equinox today?

 

Dear mum…

It’s Mothers Day today. You didn’t get a card from me (sorry). Not because I forgot, but because I had no idea until this Friday that it was Mothers Day today. Sorry (again).

Mothers Day is supposed to be in spring isn’t it? Spring is on its way for sure, but it’s not here yet. As I type I can look out the window and see snow. Every so often the sun comes out and tries to melt it, but then another snow shower delivers a fresh layer to replace what was lost.

I was thinking this morning about Mothers Day, a day I usually treat as an afterthought (and that’s what I’m doing again now). I took Holly for a walk around Baal Hill Wood (we walked above it that day we took you to Tunstall Reservoir). Baal Hill reminds me of the steep wooded valleys around Farley Water Farm in Exmoor. Our wood isn’t as steep, and most of its ancient trees were lost to industry a long time ago, but I always remember those Exmoor holidays when I go to the woods.

So what was I thinking as I walked in the woods? I was thinking that I wouldn’t be here, living in Weardale, walking the dog while taking in the view of snow-dusted fells, if it wasn’t for you. You gave me my love of the wild places, my love of nature, and my love of border collies (not sure if I should thank you for that last one just yet).

Thank you mum, and happy Mothers Day.

Yasmine

xxxxx

PS: I took that photo this afternoon. Spring is definitely on hold up here!

Spring promise

It’s the first day of March, the snow is still clinging to the slopes of Weardale, but boy can you feel the promise of spring around these parts.

Snowdrops are in full bloom. Everywhere, even in fields and on waste ground. Daffodils are preparing to paint the verges cadmium yellow. Hazel catkins are sharing their pollen love. And the birds are singing. And singing. And singing.

This week we have enjoyed some gorgeous daytime sunshine (followed by deep overnight frosts). This unaccustomed warmth tempted at least one bat out to hunt over my garden on the evening of 27 February. February! I’ve never seen a bat out so early (did I say there’s still snow on the hills?).

Holly our border collie puppy heard her first cockerel this morning and decided he needed a canine accompaniment (thanks Holly, I’m sure the neighbours appreciated it).

But the surest sign that spring is in the air is my body clock. For the last few days the alarm clock has been an unnecessary annoyance – something I have to go back upstairs to turn off. This spring fever won’t last, and I’ll soon be sleeping soundly through the dawn chorus, but have no doubts, I promise you that spring is just around the corner.

So what if it snowed after I took this photo? Spring is coming, I promise.

Puppy training

Holly, our border collie puppy, is four month’s old this week. She seems to grow a bit every day, but I’m always surprised to look back at ‘old’ photos of her and see how much she’s changed in such a short space of time.

Holly on her first day with us, 8 1/2 weeks old, eating my foot

When I first wrote about her on muddytracks I felt like I was always knee deep in dirty newspaper or mopping the floor. Those housetraining days are far behind us, thankfully, but puppy raising is as challenging as ever. It can also be fun and rewarding, although I’m still working out who is training who.

While she’ll never be able to talk back in kind, and she certainly employs selective hearing, here are some of the words Holly knows:

• sit
• stay
• wait
• no
• lay down
• get down
• get off
• watch me
• good girl
• come
• bring
• drop
• give
• go get it
• left
• right
• go round (for kissing gates)
• over
• jump
• run
• bed time
• time out
• get down
• no biting
• no jumping
• find it
• where is it?

And the names of her toys:

• green ring
• spiky ball
• tennis ball
• chipmunk
• green frog
• blue bone
• rope
• pink rope
• blue rope
• kong

There are some words she probably knows but ignores, i.e. heel, here, follow me, slowly, walk nicely, don’t pull, stop pulling: basically, we haven’t got the ‘walking on a lead’ thing sorted yet. That’s still nearly forty human vocalisations that Holly definitely understands.

With that kind of intelligence, it would be impossible for a confident young thing not to try and do some training back. So far she’s trained us to let her up on the sofa, to play fetch on walks, to fetch the item ourselves on walks, to give her attention when I’m on the phone otherwise she will bark, for me not to make work calls upstairs (she’s only allowed downstairs) because otherwise she will howl.

Now I just need her to realise that I can be trained to let her upstairs if she stops emptying the waste paper bin, stealing my socks, and chewing my books and electric cables. If only she could read…

Holly, around 13 weeks old, exploring her garden

Looking like she owns the place at 14 weeks

Holly at 16 weeks looking very un-puppylike

And here’s an arty farty photo to finish on