Muscovy Ducks - From hatching to plate.

The ten Muscovies hatched by Elvis back in early May reached 25 weeks old this week, which was very bad news for them.
They were reared for meat and I was determined not to keep putting off the date of their dispatch. If you leave birds too long, the meat goes tough. Ducks can, in fact, be dispatched as early as 9 weeks old, though ours were way to small at this age. Goodness knows how you'd have to keep them to get them to any sort of weight by this age. From then till 16 weeks they grow pin feathers which make plucking virtually impossible. But from 16 weeks onwards they are fair game. Kept free range as ours are, they really reach ideal weight anytime from 24 weeks of age.

We could send them off to a fairly local butcher to turn them into tasty duck joints, but it costs about £4 per bird plus the petrol there and back twice. I don't really look forward to dispatch day and it is a lot of work, but it is part of this hobby / lifestyle.

But there was a slight problem. For the young ducks had grown as large as their parents and I was no longer sure which was which! The adult drake was fine, a large grey and white beast, and one of the adult ducks was the only all white bird. But the other duck was black and white, one of four black and white girls.
I began to think that I SHOULD HAVE PUT A RING ON HER!

But my problem was solved by this blog. For I went back to the photos of when the Muscovies arrived and was able to match the precise pattern from the photo to one of the ducks.

One of those looks like the picture!

So on Friday night we put the three adults into the big chicken house and then herded the other ten up the garden and into one of the stables so that catching them the next day would be easier and less stressful for all concerned.

Three of the Ixworth chickens were ready to go too, though when I went to separate them off only two were obviously bigger than the next batch. I decided to leave the third for a while.

So Saturday morning came. I wasn't looking forward to it. No-one enjoys killing animals, but I strongly believe that people are too distanced from their food these days. Hence the waste, the fussiness and the lack of any food ethics. Convenience is a much over-rated quality.

It didn't take long to dispatch a dozen birds, though the male Muscovies were more difficult with their thick necks.

Next step was plucking. A while ago I purchased a plucking attachment to go on the drill.



The birds need scolding in water at a fairly precise temperature - we have a large pot specifically for this. If the temperature is too cool or the scolding time too short, then the feathers do not come out easily. Conversely, too hot or too long and the skin breaks when the feathers come out.













You can scold birds even if you're not using the plucking device. It makes plucking much easier but it is hard to keep the skin perfect. But this was the first time we had used the rubber finger attachment. A little experimentation was needed. One drill went too fast, one was shaking itself to pieces in the vice. We ended up using the cordless drill hand-held. I held the drill as firmly as possible and Sue offered up the birds. Feathers flew everywhere!




Where we had scolded a little too much we reverted to hand plucking.
We hand plucked the chickens too, for they were our first birds specifically bred for meat and we wanted them to be special.

We don't bother with hanging chickens or ducks. We know they are not old and don't find they need it. Besides, with the weather as it is at the moment there are still far too many flies around.
Next step was the butchery. The chickens and the male ducks were to stay whole, for roasting. Sue has become the expert at gutting and preparing these.
There is not much more on a duck than the breasts and legs and we don't have the freezer space for all the empty carcass space, so I processed the female Muscovies, taking off the breasts and the legs. I've got quite good at this and can do it leaving virtually no meat on the bone. Any scraps which were left were greatly enjoyed by Arthur, who relished playing the traditional farm dog role. Boris, on the other hand, was not interested in the least, turning his nose up at the scraps.

It took both of us much of the day, but we eventually finished processing the dozen birds. From hatching the eggs to butchering the birds it's a long process. It'll probably work out no cheaper than a good chicken from the supermarket, and that's definitely without factoring in our time. To tell the truth I don't even work it out. As for taste, there is no comparison between a cheap supermarket chicken, whichever misleading terminology they use to describe its rearing, and a properly free bird. Sue and I both find that supermarket chicken tastes of not very much, maybe even a bit bleachy. But to be honest the chickens we've eaten recently of our own have been tough as old boots, rubber boots. But that is because we postponed eating them for too long and they were not bred for purpose.

Today's chickens were not huge, but certainly did not disgrace themselves either. But the one we roasted up tasted very nice indeed. It was juicy and tender and actually tasted like a chicken should.

If we really searched and paid a proper price for a chicken, we could probably find chicken to buy of a similar quality. But we have done this all ourselves and there is something very special and very honest about that.

Finally, luckiest fowl of the day were the turkeys, for I had been planning on dispatching one of these too. They have reached a very good size and make for quite an imposing flock now. However, we just ran out of time. Besides, they do need to be hung for about a week and Sue was due to be away then.

As I put the finishing touches to this post the weather is just turning cold so it won't be long until we are making the difficult choice of which turkey goes first!

Boris goes back to the beach

This time it was Brancaster beach.

You'll have to excuse all the photos being of Boris. Arthur was there too, but Boris somewhat stole the show.

Meanwhile, back on the farm

In between my autumn birding trips I have actually spent a little bit of time on the farm. So here's a few of the bits and bobs which have been happening.

A New Potting Shed
We are splashing out on a new conservatory - I haven't told Sue yet that I will be using it in the spring for raising all my seedlings. The base has gone down and we are waiting for it to be finished in a couple of weeks time.
Gerry decided to enter The Hall of Fame by leaving his mark for eternity in the concrete floor. I'm surprised he didn't just write "Gerry woz 'ere"!


The builders found the old well, but unfortunately it's now under the conservatory floor! Shame.

Lady Penelope lives on
Having given up on Lady Penelope the Peahen, she has reappeared in the field margin across the road. She still has one chick which is growing fast. With the loss of Captain Peacock, this may be her one and only chance to be a parent.
On a similar vein, our guinea fowl numbers have gone down to four... or so we thought, until Sue found one sitting on eggs in exactly the same spot where Lady Penelope laid eggs last year. Why do guinea fowl wait till so late in the year to incubate? The chicks will have no chance in the long, wet autumn grass, Our plan is to catch the whole family once hatched and to confine them in a stable for their own safety.

Barn Owl and Badger road casualties
While the builders were here doing the conservatory base, someone appeared at the gate clutching onto an injured barn owl. It had been picked up by the side of the road. I tried to place it on one of the beams in the stable but it fell off and started running along the floor - nothing wrong with its legs but its wing looked pretty plowed.

I put it into a cat carrier and took it along to Baytree Owl Centre - they keep captive owls, which I don't really agree with, but they would have access to a wildlife vet and were listed on the Barn Owl Trust site.
The man there informed me that the owl was a male and that it had good levels of body fat. Surprisingly, he also said the wing had been broken for some time, but it was very badly broken. I left the owl with them, not expecting to hear any more. It had a ring on its leg but it was impossible to read the number.

On the subject of road casualties there was a young badger dead by the side of the road not 100 yards from the farm the other day. Sad that it came to such an end, but good that they are around.

A Carrot Harvest
I was determined to grow carrots this year. After successive years of poor germination and then any crop I did manage to grow being ravaged by carrot fly, this year I took the step of purchasing a vegetable net.
The carrots grew well, though I was guilty of underusing the fresh crop. However you net, it always adds a level of inconvenience to weeding and harvesting.
I had entered into my spreadsheet to harvest all maincrop carrots by early October. However, birding got in the way and I only got round to it yesterday. The good news was that the carrots had grown very well and were free of carrot fly. Bad news was that the voles had found quite a few of them and the slugs were starting to move in.
However, I still managed to salvage enough to fill quite a few bags in the freezer. Next year I'll definitely be using the netting again, but I'll have to give a little more thought to voles and slugs. I'll make sure I harvest them in good time too.
One other lesson - the final sowing was a bit late going in (by about three weeks) and has come to nothing. Next year I think I'll sow more earlier in the season, not too early though or they don't germinate, and harvest them earlier.

A Scary Variety of Pumpkins and Winter Squashes

The clocks have gone back and the winter grumpiness is setting in. I'll get over it in a few months, probably after the winter solstice when the days start getting longer again.

I don't know what the Halloween equivalent of Bah Humbug is, so I'll call it Boo Vambug!
When I were a lad, Halloween was a quaint little event which came just before Fireworks Night. A little innocent trick or treat, without threat.
But now the kids I teach know absolutely nothing about 5th November, except for the Fireworks displays, and Penny For The Guy is a complete mystery to them.
But the Halloween disco! Now that's quite something else.

Unfortunately Halloween has gone the same way as Christmas. That's all I'm saying.

I won't mention the shameful waste of pumpkins. Well there you go, I've mentioned it.

The onset of Halloween did remind me last week to harvest in my own pumpkins and squashes. They've done okay this year, without producing anything spectacular. But at least the September and October weather has been fine so the pumpkins have hardened off well. The mice had found a few of them, but there are plenty enough left to last us through the winter.

So I have harvested them all. They will be stored in the utility room, where they won't get too cold and hopefully not too warm either. There's not too much direct sunlight in there either. They need circulation all around to prevent them turning into a gloopy mess.

Anyway, here's my harvest. I'm not sure what variety the giant green ones are. I'd guess Naples Long, but they've gone a bit crazy.
The Crown Prince have come out especially well.

I'll just finish with one last big BOO VAMBUG!

A Plucky Little Eastern Black Redstart.

I was having a lazy morning , telling myself that the clocks would go back tonight so still being in bed at 9.40 was okay. I rolled over and looked at my phone only to see a message from Neil, timed at 8:05, asking if I wanted a lift up north to see the Eastern Black Redstart.
This bird is not a separate species to the Black Redstart we regularly see here, but it has come from a long way East along with many of the other Eastern vagrants we have had this autumn and it is a very handsome little bird. I have never seen one before.

I immediately rang Neil to find that he was already passing just north of me. I asked him to detour while I got dressed and grabbed a coffee.

A few hours later we were in Cleveland, driving down a small valley into a little place called Skinningrove, parking up and walking along to a stunning beach. It was good to meet some of the birders I know from the north-east.

The Eastern Black Redstart was drawing a steady stream of admirers, but was playing hide and seek under the piles of boulders which protected the jetty from North Sea storms.
Eventually, though, it hopped up onto the top and as the afternoon warmed up it put on a fine display right below us, snapping up numerous flies. It looked very at home in amongst the boulders and you could just imagine it hopping about amongst the rocks by some river far to the east of here.

I even managed to grab a few half decent shots by phonescoping.

I was back at home just after dark, just in time to get the news that there had been a Pied Wheatear about 10 miles up the road, only reported and identified from photos after dark. That's the third time recently I've seen a bird a day too early and missed other goodies.
Maybe I should start delaying my journeys by a day.

A Perfect Day - Burnham Overy beach meets Boris and Arthur

Last Saturday had me heading for one of my favourite birding locations on the North Norfolk coast, Burnham Overy dunes.
A birder I know had found an Isabelline Wheatear hopping about in the sand dunes, the first in Norfolk for over 40 years. I have only seen one Isabelline Wheatear in this country since I've been birding and that was over ten years ago, so the prospect of seeing one so close to home was irresistible. Besides, I had made it to the half term holiday so my time was relatively free.

It is about a mile and a half walk out to the dunes, which is part of the reason for their appeal. This cuts down the number of people. But the weather this late October is more like that of late August so there was still a constant stream of dog walkers and families heading out along the seawall, today with a larger than usual contingent of birders too. Just about everybody who keeps a Norfolk list was there.

The wheatear showed well, alongside a Northern Wheatear, the common wheatear in this country. In the bushes nearby an elusive Pallas's Warbler, the seven-striped sprite, occasionally showed itself.

Waxwing

Two Waxwings, those harbingers of winter, flew in off the sea and landed atop the bushes in front of us. And further along in the dunes a lone young shorelark shuffled around almost completely oblivious to its constant stream of admirers.

It was a good day's birding. I spent quite some time exploring the dunes away from most of the other birders. Doubtless there were more scarce and rare birds hidden in the dunes, but nobody found them today. Just about everybody was hoping to find Norfolk's first ever Siberian Accentor following this species' remarkable influx into the country in the past two weeks, but it didn't happen.

What was on the beach and was attracting a constant stream of inquisitive onlookers, was the corpse of a Fin Whale which had washed up a couple of days previously. A post mortem had already been undertaken, so big chinks of it had been cut away, but it was still a mighty impressive beast, if more than a little smelly if you were unlucky enough to find yourself downwind of it.
 

On the way home I thought to myself that if all those other dogs could manage the walk out to the beach, then maybe Boris and Arthur might enjoy it too. But would Boris behave? Would we be able to let him off the lead (which he would be pulling on without let up)? Would Arthur bravely bark at every other dog he saw? Would his little legs carry him that far?

Is the Desert Wheatear in this picture somewhere?

Next morning I was just a little peeved to see there had been a Desert Wheatear on the other side of the dune to the Isabelline. It had only been identified from a photograph late on in the day. I had birded that area. I sat and rested there for ten minutes or so. Whether or not it was there while I was I shall never know.

Come Tuesday morning the Desert Wheatear was still there, so I headed back, along with Sue, Arthur and Boris.
It was a 'family' day out which left me extremely proud of my two dogs. Initially we kept them on the lead, but Boris was pulling and Arthur just wanted to be next to him. Arthur gave a few little barks the first time he saw other dogs, but got bored of this after a while and realised he didn't need to bother. All other dogs were trotting along unleashed. After ten minutes or so we decided to take the plunge. Boris just trotted ahead, but returned every time I said his name. Arthur kept with us.
The pair of them probably met more dogs than they have ever met in their whole lives. Everything went very, very smoothly. They even made friends with a couple of spaniels along the way.

But it was when we climbed the final dune and descended the other side, with miles of open sand stretching out before us, that Boris really came into his element. I missed his initial joy as I was chatting to another birder, but when faced with wet sand Boris cannot help himself. He just rolls around in it, trying to become at one with the beach. He runs at full pelt back and forth, splashing through the puddles and diving into the sand. He certainly provided entertainment for those sitting on the beach. Nobody else's dogs did this.

I left Sue with the dogs for a while as I nipped off to see the Desert Wheatear. There was a bonus too as the Isabelline Wheatear was found just before I arrived. I took the chance to study it once more with just one other birder as it picked amongst the tideline debris.

Arthur's little legs carried him all the way back. Boris was still full of energy.

There was time for early afternoon fish and chips in Hunstanton on the way home. Boris and Arthur snuggled together on the back seat and when we got home the day started to catch up with them. They were the quietest they have ever been!

Even come Wednesday morning the two boys had a lay in.

Left to right: Boris, Angel, Gerry, Sue, Arthur

Back to Smallholding

So here we are. The blog I was going to post over three weeks ago!

Charlie, complete with new trendy hair style.

Sue's best friend, another Sue, brought Charlie, Boris's best friend, up to the farm for the weekend. It was the weekend of the Smallholders Annual Produce Show, so on Sunday morning we were out in the garden choosing the biggest Mangel Wurzel. We had a prize to defend.
I stayed on the farm for there was much work to catch up with, so it was a text message which informed me that we had beaten off the nearest competition by about a kilo. VICTORY!!!

Not only that, but Sue had scooped the prize for Best Recycled Object with her turkey feather lampshade.
That evening we had been invited over to a barbecue at our new neighbours. It was a lovely evening. Iain and Carol Ann were too busy for us to get to know them much better but it was a good chance to have a nose at what they've done to the place as well as to chat to our other neighbours.

25th September 2016
A rare sighting of a Muntjac deer today. It nonchalantly crossed the next field along.

I spent the morning fixing up the sheep electric fence. One of the posts had rotted at the base and needed replacing and I needed to put in a proper link to the circuit round Rambo's enclosure, as just tying the electric wire was causing it to arc and burning through the wire.
It was a good opportunity to spend some time in close proximity to the sheep. Some of them are having eye problems at the moment. I've consulted with the interweb and decided for the moment to just wait and see what happens. The two fawn ewes both have crusty, closed over eyes, but it seems to come and go. More worryingly, one of the hogget lambs has both its eyes very cloudy. This is the one which had crossed the fence into the next paddock. When I put it back with the others, they were giving it a fair bit of stick.

(ed. When I returned from Shetland, the sheep's eyes had improved greatly. Now, another week on, they are all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed again).

There was still time to put the roof on the chicken house I've been renovating and to move it down to the chicken pen. The Ixworth chicks have outgrown their accommodation up here so it was great to be able to move them to a pen within the larger chicken enclosure.



As it was chicken moving day, I let the broody and her two chicks out of the stable to explore.

26th September 2016
For the second year in a row, blight has eventually reached the tomatoes in the polytunnel. We have had a very good crop, so I took all the plants out today.

The unseasonal warm southerly wind continues and all day House Martins were heading south. We don't get them breeding on the farm and I only see them rarely on migration.

27th September 2016

The warm wind strengthened today. Four Swallows battled south and there was a late Hobby, presumably following the swallows and martins. I guess they will provide it with occasional tasty snacks all the way back to Africa.

I had a very rare trip to a shopping centre. I hate the places. I was surprised by the proliferation in mobility scooters.

The purpose of the trip was to stock up on warm clothes for Shetland.
I got it over and done with as quickly as possible.

And that's where we're up to. I've since been to the Outer Hebs, Shetland and back, Shetland and back again.

Another trip to Shetland and another Siberian Accentor

Almost three weeks ago I sat composing a blog post about what had been going on here on the smallholding. I wanted to get it published before I headed off to Shetland. I was just about to put the finishing touches to it when hot bird news had me heading North unexpectedly early, not to Shetland but to the Outer Hebrides. From there it was straight onto Shetland for my annual 9 days of rarity hunting (covered in my last post). Then the long drive back to the farm. Within a minute of arriving back there was news of another bird on Shetland.
I spent three days back on the farm before the lure of that Black-faced Bunting had me driving back up to Aberdeen airport, back on the plane and onto the ferry to the Isle of Bressay.

I never quite got round to finishing that smallholding blog post.

Back on Shetland

Unlike the previous week, the weather on Shetland was more in keeping with what might be expected, cold and windy. This made the bunting, a ridiculously flighty bird at the best of times, extremely difficult to locate. Eventually, after two hours, we got a sighting as it flew away and alighted on the bottom of a gate about 100m away. Brief scope views were had by all before the bird disappeared again and we were back to square one of the search.
Over the next three hours the bird led us a right merry dance, giving just fleeting glimpses in flight, usually heading away low over the fields. There were just four of us searching a large area. Eventually we pinned it down in a ditch and I managed a good view through the telescope for all of about two seconds.

No. It's not in this picture.

At this point, after 5 hours, we decided to call it a day and head back over to Shetland Mainland.
A curry and a bed in a birder's house finished the day off nicely. The list is now on 516.

Next day it was out into the field again, for our ferry was not until the evening. Every time we told the locals we were off on the ferry tonight, they chuckled and wished us good luck! For we would be heading through a south-easterly gale which would probably dump a load more rare birds onto Shetland and have us heading back up in a few days.

Highlight of the day was Dan finding a Red-flanked Bluetail in Kergord plantation. A decade ago this would have been MEGA, but we now get double figures every year. Still a good bird to find, but not one which has anybody jumping onto aeroplanes.
Come the evening we bade farewell to Dan and boarded the ferry for our 12 hour crossing. We were issued a weather warning card and given the choice whether we wanted to take the crossing or not. We had little choice and I just prayed I wouldn't feel ill.

Just 20 minutes after we set sail and people were already being sick! The boat was lifting and falling, leaving you feeling weightless one minute before crashing down through the waves. We opted not to eat but to get our heads down and sleep it out.

My sleep was a very interrupted one, but I was just pleased not to be feeling any ill effects. In fact it was quite fun, like a rollercoaster crossed with the log flume.
At some point I fell into a deeper sleep and was awoken by the captain announcing that the restaurant was open for breakfast and that we would be arriving on time. We were now within the calm waters of Aberdeen harbour.

We just had the 450 mile drive home to do now, so we opted to take the East coast route down the A1 to put us in prime position for any new rare birds arriving. A stop at Torness power station gave us a Yellow-browed Warbler, Pallas's Warbler and a Great Grey Shrike as well as bushes full of commoner migrants. I met an elderly gentleman who had last seen a Yellow-browed Warbler in 1948 on Fair Isle. He must have been one of the original pioneers. Further south and we decided to head for Sunderland docks where a Siberian Accentor had been found the previous day.
Exactly a week ago one of these gorgeous birds had us abandoning our flight off Shetland. That was the first one ever to reach Britain.
How things have changed! As I write, we have now had FIVE and it looks as though we will get a few more yet. This bird is undergoing an unprecedented migration event. Never has such a mega rare bird become quite so common in such a short period of time.

The Sunderland Siberian Accentor was trickier to see than the one on Shetland, for it had bushes and trees to hide in, but we still saw it well. Unfortunately a Chiffchaff kept chasing it away. If you'd told me a week ago that I would have seen two of these and driven past another, I'd have laughed at you.

As for that post about what's been happening on the smallholding, I'll get onto it right now. I just need to get safely through to the end of the week and it's half term. I'll have 11 days to zoom around the country chasing birds. Odds are it'll be quiet. At least if it is I'll be able to catch up with all the work that needs doing on the farm.