Everyone's a Fruit and Nut Case

My one piece of advice to anyone setting up to be self-sufficient would be to plant fruit straight away, orchard trees, soft fruit bushes, nut trees and hedgerow fruit. It is an investment which takes a little while to start paying off, but it has rich rewards for the patient.

Our orchard is just starting to produce properly and can only go from strength to strength in the next few years. As summer gives way to autumn variety upon variety of apple comes ready, each with its own unique taste. There are pears and plums aplenty too, as well as more unusual fruits such as medlars. We have gradually added to the trees we first planted and will hopefully soon have an annual crop of apricots too.

All these, of course, can be bought in the shops (except maybe medlars), but some of the hedgerow plants I have planted are even more of a treat. Crab apples make a wonderful jelly, as well as being an excellent source of pectin when added into preserves.
And what about the elderberry - its flowers make an excellent cordial and an even better champagne, or let the berries ripen for one of the best wines. This year we harvested the berries (leaving plenty enough for the birds) to make pontack sauce. This old English recipe has enjoyed a recent revival, probably due to its inclusion in Hugh F-W's repertoire. It is a heady infusion of elderberries, vinegar and spices. The closest equivalent I can think of is Worcestershire Sauce. Pontack sauce stores indefinitely in the larder and develops its taste over the years, so Sue makes a big batch every few years. It adds an incredible richness and depth of flavour to meat dishes, particularly stews and casseroles.
Elders poke out from the edible hedgerows I have planted as well as being dotted all around the smallholding now. They are easy to propagate, grow well here and feed the wildlife as well as us.
Alongside them are blackthorn bushes with their yield of sloes. When you say sloes, most people instantly think of gin, but Sue prefers to add them to vodka. Once they have imparted their unique flavour to this beverage, the same berries are then used to make sloe port. Definitely a hedgerow fruit for the drinkers! We almost had a sloe disaster this year. After a blank year countrywide in 2016, our edible hedgerow has again failed to produce any sloes (or Mirabelles for that matter). I think I have been cutting it back too much in the winter and taking off the fruiting wood.
Sue's disappointment was tangible, but then I remembered that I had planted a few blackthorns in the woodland area which I have created. A closer inspection yielded several bushes laden with sloes ready to pick - a thorny job and it takes a while to fill a basket, but yesterday (edit - now a while ago as this post was superseded by other events) we collected 2kg of sloes, plenty enough for a lot of alcohol. They have gone into the freezer to simulate the frosts, as left on the trees the autumn thrushes would take them all before winter bites.

There are hawthorns and rowan berries too, though we don't have much use for them and leave them for the birds. Rosehips explode colourfully from the hedgerows too and every few years Sue makes a batch of rosehip syrup, a rich and sweet source of vitamin C. I actually grow plenty of rosa rugosa as its flowers brighten up the borders of the soft fruit area and it produces the plumpest, most vivid hips.




Back to the orchard fruits and damsons take centre stage. Our tree produced abundantly this year. They are a handsome looking fruit and handsome tasting too. All varieties of plum produce, in a good year, bountiful crops too much for simply eating the fruit straight. Pies, crumbles and jams go without saying, but Sue has had the dehydrator and the ice-cream maker busy too. Her plum yogurt ice-cream is delicious and dried fruits or fruit leathers make excellent healthy snacks for a hungry worker.






Finally there is the rather poshly named nuttery. The nut trees were an expensive investment when I planted them, as I opted for named varieties bred to produce fruits early in their lives. The almond tree has produced virtually since day one and the nuts taste delicious with that lovely marzipan kick of arsenic to them. The cobnuts are basically hazelnuts cultivated to produce larger kernels and these are producing more and more year on year. In contrast, the wild hazelnuts in the hedgerow and woodland will be keeping us waiting a good few more years before they even think about producing a nut.

Flying Young Cannibals part 2

Three days in the stables and the Muscovy ducklings' wings were all healed.
Remarkably the three perpetrators of the crime for some reason do not peck each other.

I decided to get the nine ducklings out of the stable and drive them back down to the chicken enclosure. The operation went pretty smoothly and the ducklings were overjoyed to find Elvis waiting for them. If only I could convey the contentedness of their quacks.



I left them be and took the dogs around the perimeter walk.

But on my return, maybe 20 minutes later, four of the ducklings had bloody wings again. How frustrating!

I needed to separate them out again, but this time I decided it should be the perpetrators of the crime who should be the ones to be incarcerated in the stable away from their surrogate mum.
It didn't take long to catch one in the act. Capturing it was a bit more of a struggle, but fortunately ducklings are not wonderfully designed for running. I knew that if I chased it around a bit it would eventually topple forwards and I could catch it. Muscovy ducks are actually tree ducks and have quite sharp claws plus the ability to squirt unmentionables from their back end. I carried the little blighter up to the stables. There was no dignity for it along the way.



Returning to the chicken pen and peckers number 2 and 3 soon became obvious. They too were transported to the stables.

And that is where things stand at the moment. A day later and the nine ducklings' wings have already healed and none of them are harassing the others.

It is much better having just the three ducklings in the stables, a lot less messy, though I suspect they will need to stay there until the others are a lot bigger.

I rather suspect that the three culprits are the drakes of the pack, in which case I very much look forward to eating them! A drake Muscovy will easily serve 6.

Meanwhile Priscilla's little flock of four are growing fast and presenting no such problems thank goodness.

Accidental Cannibals

Remember those cute little ducklings that Elvis hatched five weeks ago?

Well they've grown! Compared to turkeys and chickens, Muscovy ducklings grow ridiculously quickly. You can understand how when you watch them, for they peck at anything and everything to see if it is edible.

A few days back I let Elvis and her gang out of their protective compound. I judged they were big enough and ugly enough to look after themselves. Elvis is a good mother and would protect them and teach them well. But what I hadn't accounted for was the danger within.

After a couple of days I noticed that three had blood around their developing wing feathers. I separated them off into the stables and put the rest away for the night. In the morning another four had similar injuries. It didn't take too much observation to work out what was happening.

When you spend all day waddling around pecking at everything in sight to see if it is edible then your siblings' newly developing wing feathers just look like another potential meal.

The trouble is that open wounds are not particularly conducive to good health.

The situation developed rapidly and I now have nine ducklings in a stable, with one of the peckers also a peckee and separated off on its own.

My hope is that their feathers grow in properly within a week and that all wounds heal up quickly. I will then try reintroducing the ducklings to the chicken pen and see how things go.

I don't like having them shut up inside when they could be wandering around the orchard pecking at grass stems, snatching insects and seeds.
However, they have failed to make appropriate choices and need protecting from themselves.

Back to Barra so soon

I didn't think I'd be back so soon. It was only four weeks ago that Sue, Boris, Arthur and I were exploring the southernmost of the Outer Hebridean Islands and now I was back again. The reason?

Sue, Boris and Arthur on the rocks at Eoligarry, Barra, just a few weeks ago

While we were shuffling the freezer produce around to try to fit in three lambs (in boxes, not still woolly and wriggling!) I received a message which simply read "Get going". Two comments later, "Yank Red".
That translates as American Redstart, a much wanted waif which last appeared in Britain over thirty years ago. I might not be able to wait for the next one!!!

A couple of phone calls and I had a place in a car and a seat on the morning ferry from the Isle of Skye to Lochmaddy on North Uist. By 1pm on Friday I should be boarding a second ferry across to Barra where the American Redstart would hopefully still be flitting around in the sycamores behind the church at Eoligarry.

I informed Sue of the situation. She was as ever remarkably stoical about it considering that we had friends visiting for the weekend and a 70th birthday party to attend where Sue's band, The Sugar Beats, were the main attraction. I hurriedly threw together a few provisions and headed off across country to meet up.
One of my front lights was not working so it was a good job that on this occasion we were not taking my car the whole way. Next problem - the Sat Nav on the phone stopped working - no mobile internet. I headed in what I thought was the right direction, sure that the phone would come back into signal soon enough, but by the time I reached Peterborough it was still not working. It would not be beyond the realms of possibility that I had somehow unknowingly changed the phone's settings.

When Dan phoned to find out my ETA I frustratedly told him that I had no idea and I didn't really know which route to take to head cross country. Anyhow, I found my way across with a few stops to consult the roadmap (an old fashioned navigational gizmo which I still keep in the back of the car). The drive up was uneventful and by midnight we had a full carload and were heading rapidly up the M6 toward Scotland.

We reached the ferry terminal in the early morning light with plenty of time to spare. Two other carloads of twitchers were already there and by the time we boarded there were a few more carloads of obsessive personalities.








The ferry crossing was smooth and the obligatory Calmac breakfast delicious as ever. Off the ferry and it was Wacky Races down the island to connect with the boat to Barra. One fell by the wayside, hazards flashing (they did recover enough to get the ferry) and we lost first place in the carnage that followed. We later regained the lead with a nifty bit of trickery which had the car ahead turning off onto a pier to nowhere, but that's another story.
By now we knew that the bird was still there this morning. We had made it to the ferry and everybody was in high spirits. It was lovely to be back on the islands, my favourite twitching destination.

A short drive the other end and we pulled up by the church, where the finder @barrabirder showed us which trees the bird was in.
Even at this final hurdle it is still possible for something to go horribly wrong, but fortunately the tense wait did not last long as the bird appeared flitting and flycatching in the lower branches of the sycamores.
I have seen American Redstarts before in South America but this one meant much more, just by reason of its incredible journey across the Atlantic and its subsequent arrival on these shores. The last one I could reasonably have seen was when I was 17 years old and I hadn't even heard of twitching then.

For the next couple of hours about 40 of us just admired the bird, tracking it as it moved rapidly here and there through the small clump of sycamores.

It showed best when it frequented the lowest branches which hung down close to the ground. American Redstarts have a strange habit of flicking their whole body side to side so their yellow-indented tail seems to magically swap sides in a flash.

The reason for our mission. The first American Redstart in Britain for quite some years

Mid afternoon we headed off to explore other areas of the island, returning late afternoon when rain and the return ferry had dwindled the numbers down to about ten. This meant we could move closer to where the bird was feeding and we all enjoyed our best views of the bird as it fed in the evening light.

We left the bird in peace to go and secure some accommodation for the night, a static caravan which more than met our needs for the night. A hearty meal of chowder, haddock and a huge sticky toffee pudding was washed down with a couple of celebratory beers.

The night was squally and we were up early for the boat off the island across to Oban. The crossing was five hours but beautifully calm. In between eating, seawatching and chatting to other birders the time flew past. Bird of the day was a couple of basking sharks which were feeding in the shallows as we approached Oban through some absolutely glorious scenery.

Looking back on Barra.

Hopefully not too long before we are back.

During the eight hour drive back we heard that a small plane carrying three birders to the bird had crashed in a field alongside the M62, just a short distance from where it had taken off. Luckily all in the plane had survived with just a few broken bones and minor wounds.

You might expect the odd tricky take-off or landing on one of the small islands we often visit, but goodness knows what happened to cause this so soon after the take off from Salford City Airport. Fortunately it was not one of the planes or pilots who we occasionally use when no other viable alternative exists to reach some far-flung outpost of the British Isles.

Just after dark, 48 hours after leaving, I pulled back onto the farm. An excited greeting from the dogs and a run down in the dark to shut the chickens away and I was straight back out just in time to show my face at the 70th birthday party and to see Sue singing with her band.

Mission accomplished. 😊
My 520th species in Britain. Here's to the next one.

Ducks move into Spare Veg Patch

Not only do I have a rather intricately designed veg plot known as The Wheel, but I also have a rather sizeable plot simply known as The Spare Veg Patch.
This is where I grow the crops which grow too large to fit nicely into beds - Pumpkins, Mangel Wurzels, large brassicas such as cauliflowers.

Buddleia and elder cuttings with sweetcorn and pumpkings behind

and the brassica cage in the background.

All a bit overgrown at this time of year!

Unlike The Wheel, the Spare Veg Patch used to be arable land so it is denuded of decent top soil. It is pretty windswept too, although I have planted hedges which are beginning to give some shelter. And another thing... once the field next door is harvested, the rodents tend to flee to The Spare Veg Patch and eat all the sweetcorn before it has ripened. And one last thing... the rabbits come up out of the dry dyke and nibble everything.
But still I persist with growing things there. Admittedly I have given quarter of it over to growing seed for wild birds and another quarter as a temporary home for hardwood cuttings until they are big enough to move to their permanent homes.
The rest I have heavily nourished with horse muck and grass cuttings. Having the dogs seems to have deterred the rodents - for the first time this year my sweetcorn still has cobs on even once the field has been cleared.

Sweetcorn Minipop - the cobs are picked early,

before they mature and before anything can eat them.

Mangel wurzels actually do pretty well in the heavy soil - they are closely related to the sugar beet which is a favourite crop in the area. Pumpkins fare okay too as does sweetcorn. I think that the hard clay surface holds plenty of moisture underneath and further down, where deep in the past this was an inlet from the sea (you can still see the lines of old Roman salt works) lies a layer of sandy loam.

So everything in the Spare Veg Patch is hunky dory. No!

Those cracks which open up on the clay surface are proving to be an excellent daytime hiding place for slugs - big orange ones, long black ones, small pale ones, squidgy brown ones.
I managed to protect my brassicas from cabbage fly, cabbage whites, pigeons and rabbits, only for an enemy to rise from beneath the soil and invade from outside the protective netting, mostly disappearing during the day leaving behind just the occasional slimy trail and decimated leaves resembling the worst lacework you have ever seen. Even worse, they have taken a liking to my cauliflowers, the vegetable which has taken me six years to finally succeed with.

Part of it is my own fault. I've let the nasturtiums get out of control and they provide the perfect cool, shady habitat underneath their lily-like leaves and splashes of orange-red flowers. I totally cleared them once, but I need to keep more on top of it. There's just so much to do though.

The slugs live under the nasturtium canopy.

So in one last desperate attempt I have resorted to biological control - the ducks. They have moved in to the Spare Veg Patch. At the moment they are still scared of everything and spend most of their time huddled up by the gate, nowhere near where most of the slugs are. But hopefully in the winter they will come into their own, when I can work the soil, hopefully with a trio of ducks and a gang of chickens following me along enjoying the feast that is thrown up from beneath the surface.
Yes, the chickens get through an awful lot of worms which are the gardener's friend, but there are plenty more of them thank goodness.

And so, with tweaks and adjustments, the Spare Veg Patch will continue into the autumn and next year. It's getting there.

Biological control

Honey bees get ready for winter.

As we enter September autumn is fast upon us. All the fields have now been harvested and Sue and I are spending most of our time picking and processing.



It's certainly autumn time for the bees as they gather in less and less pollen and nectar has run out. They begin to rely on what they have stored during the summer to get them through the long dark months ahead.
Sue has applied the varroa treatment which means it is time to stop taking honey and to start feeding the bees extra. In fact she decided to leave them the honey they had already collected rather than take one last harvest.
It has been a poor year for honey harvest. Some years are better than others and that is just the way of the world. Some people take all the bees' produce and just keep topping the bees up with sugar, but we prefer to keep things more natural. Most of the bees which are out and about now will die before winter takes hold. It is the young brood which will form the nucleus to get through till next spring, so better that these are reared on the most natural food possible.
Hopefully we can take strong colonies into the winter.

An extra hive has appeared on our land, on the edge of the woodland down by the sheep paddocks. For we responded to a beekeeper's request for somewhere to keep a few colonies. We are keen to share our smallholding with as many people as possible and this is a small start.
I have already started to meet the new bees in the garden - they are very docile, long-bodied and dark.