This past Sunday was a big day for me.
It was the AGM of the Fenland Smallholders Club and, after two years at the helm, I was stepping down as Chair.
But there was a big problem. There was no sign of anyone being willing to take over the mantle. There was a real danger that the club would fold after over forty years.
The club had been in a similar precarious situation before I took on the role of Chair, so my tenure had just bought a little time. Of course, I could just stay on as Chair if no one else came forward, but this was a bit like a game of chicken. If I gave way and showed any hint of being willing to carry on then it was sure that nobody would stand and we would be in exactly the same position this time in 2021. Besides, there are over 200 members in the club so it is unfair for one person to be forced into a position because of others' inertia.
This is of course a situation which many clubs and small organisations across the country find themselves in. The digital age brings some great benefits, but actual personal contact and going out to meetings and events has suffered as a result. It was I who started up the Facebook group for members of the club and I have sometimes wondered if that may have contributed to members' apathy. It is all too easy to hit the like button and somehow feel you are doing your bit to support the club. But there have been huge benefits of the Facebook group too. Especially for newer smallholders, it means they don't have to spend time building up a network of people to call and they don't have to wait several weeks to ask someone's opinion at a meeting. Answers on the internet are instant, even if often at odds with each other. Facebook has also provided the club with a great means of marketing and a huge pool of potential members. The days of turning up at agricultural shows and country fayres with a club stand are long gone.
But nor should the past be left behind and forgotten. Fenland Smallholders Club has always been slightly quirky and slightly old-fashioned. In my time on committee I have tried to drag it kicking and screaming into the current century, but it has often been an uphill struggle against a tide of conservatism. Occasionally, when I am feeling mischievous, I bring up the subject of veganism. That gets things kicking off!!!
But the old timers have much to teach us. Many members, including ourselves, have come from city life and come with idealised views about rural life. Jumping in at the deep end soon brings you back to reality and the smallholding learning curve is a steep one. But at the same time there is a balance to be struck. Many countryside attitudes are indeed ill informed and need challenging.
You've only got to look at the all too common attitude that any uninvited plant or creature needs to be destroyed. The indiscriminate use of chemicals which came in after the war has decimated our wildlife and left our ecosystems in tatters.
But I would like to think that smallholding harks back to a time before industrial, monocultural farming and that it can provide some sort of model for the future. I'm not saying that every single person can be expected to own a piece of land and spend much of their time producing their own food. Most people wouldn't want to, but that's no excuse for accepting the way things have gone.
So, back to the Fenland Smallholders Club. We still have meetings at least every other month. We have a buddy scheme where an incredible range of members' knowledge and experience can be accessed. We have subgroups for Grow-Your Own, Cheesemaking, Winemaking and Wool Crafts. We have an annual duck order for members and we have a cheap seed scheme. And if all that wasn't enough, members get an excellent bimonthly magazine too.
We try to do whatever we can to support members, both practically and socially.
Smallholding can be a lonely pursuit. In fact most smallholders are fiercely independent people. So having the opportunity to meet up with other smallholders is probably the most valuable thing the club offers.
Yes, we have a Facebook page, a website and even a Twitter account, but it's that face to face contact, the interest and education that our meetings offer which is the real draw.
But we are like the village pub and the high street, constantly facing an uphill struggle to keep going. Everyone bemoans our disappearance but few people see that active, practical support is needed to keep these institutions going.
I may sound old here, but these days people want to have their cake and eat it and that is not always possible.
So this post has been a balance of nostalgic pessimism and forward-thinking optimism and that ability to balance past and future, to move with the times but with an eye to the best of tradition and the past, is the key to the survival for clubs like Fenland Smallholders Club.
Well, I've wandered and rambled right off the path!
Back to last Sunday and the AGM.
There was a real danger that the club would fold due to the membership as a whole being too apathetic to take responsibility for it. I know that sounds harsh but that's the way I see it and now that I am no longer Chair I don't have to be quite so diplomatic (not a strength of mine anyway!)
But the people who do care turned up and restored some of my faith in human nature. There was a genuine banging together of heads to come up with a solution. I had been expecting a bumpy meeting, but almost everybody's contributions were positive and it really came across how valued the club is.
Everybody has busy lives which don't always go to plan. Sometimes we go through really sticky patches where we seem to be trudging through mud. But if lots of people can get involved then the responsibility can be shared and running the club can actually be a joy rather then a burden.
Fortunately just enough people, with a little cajoling, were willing to step up to the mark.
Even more importantly, we do now have a new Chair. More than that, we have our first ever female Chair (strictly speaking, club rules and most members still like to use the word Chairman, but I insist on dropping the man bit off the end!). This was a huge relief. To see the club fold would have been absolutely tragic.
I will of course be staying very involved and doing everything I can to make sure the new Chair feels supported and not burdened.
At the end of the day it is about community and everybody taking a bit of responsibility for the mutual benefit of all.
Long live Fenland Smallholder Club!
Follow the adventures of John, Sue, Boris, Arthur & Geronimo (Gerry) the cat as they attempt to live the dream on Swallow Farm.
Saturday, 1 February 2020
Monday, 27 January 2020
Growing Anticipation
Things are looking on the up. A period of high pressure and dry weather has allowed the ground to dry out a little, though there is still plenty enough water left to keep the Muscovy ducks happy.
And a few clear, sunny days have done wonders to lift the spirits. It almost feels like spring, though I may be getting a bit premature there.
Seed sowing is almost upon us. At this time of year there is a great feeling of anticipation and a temptation to rush into the new growing season. Most seeds, however, benefit from a little patience so they can grow when conditions are actually much better for them rather than having to struggle against poor light conditions, cold weather and wet soil.
The flip side of this is that some more Mediterranean and tropical crops need a long season and only start to produce crops late in the summer. An early start gives a much higher percentage of ripening and cropping time.
In reality it is a balance and very much depends on conditions from year to year. Last year looked good until June, but them summer failed to properly materialise. Blight came quite early and hit the potatoes hard. It hit the outdoor tomatoes just as we were starting to get a crop. Chillis and peppers never had time to ripen either, even in the polytunnel. Beans and squashes didn't get enough autumn sun to dry out properly for storage. I can't squeeze the timing of these any more as they can only be planted out after all risk of frost has passed. We may not get many frosts these days, but a late one can still cause havoc, and let's not forget the Beast from the East and not get lulled into a false sense of security by mild winter conditions. Onions and leeks never reached their full potential either and I will definitely be starting them earlier this year.
The answer with most crops is not to put all your eggs in one basket. Seeds are cheap and there are often way too many in a packet, so there is no harm trying for an early sowing but with a later one as insurance.
So with this in mind I do actually have a list of seeds to sow right now. Things have been delayed a little by the oiler finally giving up the ghost. We spent two weeks with no central heating.
Now that we have warmth in every room again, I will be able to give some early seeds the right conditions to get a start in the house. Once they have germinated, most move to the conservatory which is cooler but has good light. From there it's into the polytunnel with the added protection of a mini greenhouse and a propagator cloche if needed.
I have found this system generally to give me really strong seedlings for more hardy outdoor vegetables and for those which will grow in the protected polytunnel environment.
Of course, the race is still on to prepare all the beds. My back still seems to be on the mend, so compost turning is still very much a priority. I have used all of the compost from the ready pile and it has covered not 20% of my beds. However, at the bottom of the huge heap which has not been turned since mid August there is a large quantity of usable material. This will mostly be reserved for covering my seed potatoes in about ten weeks time. This weekend is Cambridgeshire Self Sufficiency Group's annual potato day in Huntingdon. I help out here and will be purchasing this year's crop of seed potatoes. I am planning to grow eleven varieties of potato this year.
And a few clear, sunny days have done wonders to lift the spirits. It almost feels like spring, though I may be getting a bit premature there.
Seed sowing is almost upon us. At this time of year there is a great feeling of anticipation and a temptation to rush into the new growing season. Most seeds, however, benefit from a little patience so they can grow when conditions are actually much better for them rather than having to struggle against poor light conditions, cold weather and wet soil.
The flip side of this is that some more Mediterranean and tropical crops need a long season and only start to produce crops late in the summer. An early start gives a much higher percentage of ripening and cropping time.
In reality it is a balance and very much depends on conditions from year to year. Last year looked good until June, but them summer failed to properly materialise. Blight came quite early and hit the potatoes hard. It hit the outdoor tomatoes just as we were starting to get a crop. Chillis and peppers never had time to ripen either, even in the polytunnel. Beans and squashes didn't get enough autumn sun to dry out properly for storage. I can't squeeze the timing of these any more as they can only be planted out after all risk of frost has passed. We may not get many frosts these days, but a late one can still cause havoc, and let's not forget the Beast from the East and not get lulled into a false sense of security by mild winter conditions. Onions and leeks never reached their full potential either and I will definitely be starting them earlier this year.
The answer with most crops is not to put all your eggs in one basket. Seeds are cheap and there are often way too many in a packet, so there is no harm trying for an early sowing but with a later one as insurance.
So with this in mind I do actually have a list of seeds to sow right now. Things have been delayed a little by the oiler finally giving up the ghost. We spent two weeks with no central heating.
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To say the least, I was not impressed with this Worcester Bosch boiler which only gave us about 6 years of service.
That black smoke should be clear steam.
So it was a relief to finally get a new boiler fitted.
Most exciting though, look at that big bit of cardboard which should be enough to cover one of my weedy veg beds!
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Now that we have warmth in every room again, I will be able to give some early seeds the right conditions to get a start in the house. Once they have germinated, most move to the conservatory which is cooler but has good light. From there it's into the polytunnel with the added protection of a mini greenhouse and a propagator cloche if needed.
I have found this system generally to give me really strong seedlings for more hardy outdoor vegetables and for those which will grow in the protected polytunnel environment.
Of course, the race is still on to prepare all the beds. My back still seems to be on the mend, so compost turning is still very much a priority. I have used all of the compost from the ready pile and it has covered not 20% of my beds. However, at the bottom of the huge heap which has not been turned since mid August there is a large quantity of usable material. This will mostly be reserved for covering my seed potatoes in about ten weeks time. This weekend is Cambridgeshire Self Sufficiency Group's annual potato day in Huntingdon. I help out here and will be purchasing this year's crop of seed potatoes. I am planning to grow eleven varieties of potato this year.
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Above: Any help greatly appreciated. Boris does his best to shred any sticks he finds in the compost, plus a bit of digging.
Below: Once the beds are covered with a thin layer of compost to exclude the light, I lay fleece over the top. This is to stop the chickens and ducks displacing all the compost. After a while the compost settles and I can remove the fleece.
When I plant seedlings' out, the fleece will be used to protect them again and once the plants are big enough to remove the fleece, the ducks and chickens will be excluded from the veg patch.
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Friday, 10 January 2020
Compost turning back on the agenda
8th January 2020 - Jobs for the day
Put bins bags out for collection
Feed and let out poultry
Check rat traps, move one into stable to catch the rat in there
Batch freeze soup made yesterday - by the way, concentrated orange and pineapple squash is not a suitable substitute for the juice of an orange in a butternut and parsnip soup recipe
Go to doctors for vaccinations for upcoming trip
Check out swan flock that has appeared in the fields on the way to the doctors. (49 Bewick's Swans and 140 Whooper Swans)
Clear perennial weeds from two veg beds, mulch with an inch of compost to protect the surface and provide goodness for next year. Cover with fleece until it settles down to stop the ducks and chickens moving it back off again.
Turn 2019 compost heap.
Yes. TURN 2019 COMPOST HEAP.
This is significant as it's the first time I've actually been able to turn the compost since the end of August. I don't want to build my hopes up too far, but months of gingerly pottering around in fear of aggravating my back pains may be coming to an end. Enforced rest (which has driven me stir crazy) and half an hour of exercises every night seems to have finally got me to the stage where actually using and exercising my back muscles, within reason, is helping my recovery.
The compost which I started back in November 2018, when I decided to trial no dig, has shrunk unimaginably. Despite my best efforts, there will only be enough to cover about a fifth of my veg beds. This has always been a concern of mine about the no-dig system as I see post upon post on Facebook where people are bringing in compost. To me a truly regenerative system needs to be self-supporting and this is what I am constantly searching for.
On a more positive note, I have a humungous pile of compostable material that I have amassed during 2019. I've just not been able to turn it of late.
From the outside it looks nothing like compost as the outermost surface is recently added material, but when I turned it today it didn't take long to reach usable compost. The best stuff was where I had added woodchip which comes directly from trees and shrubs grown specifically for harvesting for this purpose.
In fact I reckon I will be able to cover close to half of the veg beds with what I have produced.
This is encouraging and spurs me forwards to producing more and more compost. The willow bed will go from strength to strength, as will the elephant grass, both specifically cultivated for adding to the compost. Their roots will stay in the soil to add structure.
I was disappointed not to be able to try my oats experiment this year. The idea is to sow oats quite thickly after the earlier harvests. I can get whole oats as animal feed for less than £5 for a 15kg bag. The oats will grow enough to protect the soil surface, then get killed off by the frost. Come springtime they can be raked off and added to the compost.
I don't know anybody in this country who uses this method but I have seen it on YouTube and can't see why it won't work.
Put bins bags out for collection
Feed and let out poultry
Check rat traps, move one into stable to catch the rat in there
Batch freeze soup made yesterday - by the way, concentrated orange and pineapple squash is not a suitable substitute for the juice of an orange in a butternut and parsnip soup recipe
Go to doctors for vaccinations for upcoming trip
Check out swan flock that has appeared in the fields on the way to the doctors. (49 Bewick's Swans and 140 Whooper Swans)
Clear perennial weeds from two veg beds, mulch with an inch of compost to protect the surface and provide goodness for next year. Cover with fleece until it settles down to stop the ducks and chickens moving it back off again.
Turn 2019 compost heap.
Yes. TURN 2019 COMPOST HEAP.
This is significant as it's the first time I've actually been able to turn the compost since the end of August. I don't want to build my hopes up too far, but months of gingerly pottering around in fear of aggravating my back pains may be coming to an end. Enforced rest (which has driven me stir crazy) and half an hour of exercises every night seems to have finally got me to the stage where actually using and exercising my back muscles, within reason, is helping my recovery.
The compost which I started back in November 2018, when I decided to trial no dig, has shrunk unimaginably. Despite my best efforts, there will only be enough to cover about a fifth of my veg beds. This has always been a concern of mine about the no-dig system as I see post upon post on Facebook where people are bringing in compost. To me a truly regenerative system needs to be self-supporting and this is what I am constantly searching for.
On a more positive note, I have a humungous pile of compostable material that I have amassed during 2019. I've just not been able to turn it of late.
From the outside it looks nothing like compost as the outermost surface is recently added material, but when I turned it today it didn't take long to reach usable compost. The best stuff was where I had added woodchip which comes directly from trees and shrubs grown specifically for harvesting for this purpose.
In fact I reckon I will be able to cover close to half of the veg beds with what I have produced.
This is encouraging and spurs me forwards to producing more and more compost. The willow bed will go from strength to strength, as will the elephant grass, both specifically cultivated for adding to the compost. Their roots will stay in the soil to add structure.
I was disappointed not to be able to try my oats experiment this year. The idea is to sow oats quite thickly after the earlier harvests. I can get whole oats as animal feed for less than £5 for a 15kg bag. The oats will grow enough to protect the soil surface, then get killed off by the frost. Come springtime they can be raked off and added to the compost.
I don't know anybody in this country who uses this method but I have seen it on YouTube and can't see why it won't work.
Saturday, 4 January 2020
Planting garlic cloves - the first job of a new decade
It was at the beginning of the last decade that we took the plunge and bought our smallholding in The Fens. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since then.
And so we enter a new decade.
One of the things which we love about growing most of our own food is how our lives are now so entwined with the weather and the seasons.
New decade or not, the turn of the year has seen me planting garlic every year. This marks the start of a new growing season. The ancestors of the garlic cloves I planted today go right back to those three bulbs of garlic I bought from a greengrocer in London quite a few years back. Every year I select some nice plump cloves from last year's crop and each develops into a new bulb, multiplying itself by about 10.
And by my selection every year I get stronger stock adapted to growing here on the smallholding.
In keeping with the developing patterns of climate breakdown, this winter seems even warmer and wetter than previous ones. In fact, it would be good if somebody could tell the rhubarb to stay in hibernation for a couple more months. It really is quite confused at the moment.
I had to wait for a protracted spell of dry weather before I could consider working in the veg plot. Even though I have gone no-dig, so no need for digging over sodden soil, even just walking around on the paths would create a mud bath.
Fortunately that dry spell has now come. The puddles are receding and yesterday I was able to prepare the first bed ready for planting up with garlic cloves. The whole family came out to help. Sue cleared the asparagus bed of its old stems, Gerry climbed a tree and the dogs went digging for voles.
I have had to move the sheep more frequently to stop the ground from becoming poached - with water lying on or just below the surface, their hooves quickly turn the ground muddy and the grass is slow to grow. We have moved the rams well away from the ewes as we are not breeding this year. They were spending all their time frustratedly pacing up and down the fence-line turning it into a swamp.
We have had to feed more sugar beet and more hay this year. Hopefully the paddocks will recover with drier weather and we won't have to hunt for more hay towards the end of the winter.
And so we enter a new decade.
One of the things which we love about growing most of our own food is how our lives are now so entwined with the weather and the seasons.
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| The first bed of the year planted up with garlic cloves |
And by my selection every year I get stronger stock adapted to growing here on the smallholding.
In keeping with the developing patterns of climate breakdown, this winter seems even warmer and wetter than previous ones. In fact, it would be good if somebody could tell the rhubarb to stay in hibernation for a couple more months. It really is quite confused at the moment.
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| Some very confused rhubarb |
Fortunately that dry spell has now come. The puddles are receding and yesterday I was able to prepare the first bed ready for planting up with garlic cloves. The whole family came out to help. Sue cleared the asparagus bed of its old stems, Gerry climbed a tree and the dogs went digging for voles.
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| My team of helpers. Left to right: Boris, Arthur, Gerry and Sue |
I have had to move the sheep more frequently to stop the ground from becoming poached - with water lying on or just below the surface, their hooves quickly turn the ground muddy and the grass is slow to grow. We have moved the rams well away from the ewes as we are not breeding this year. They were spending all their time frustratedly pacing up and down the fence-line turning it into a swamp.
We have had to feed more sugar beet and more hay this year. Hopefully the paddocks will recover with drier weather and we won't have to hunt for more hay towards the end of the winter.
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The ewes are quick to move to a new paddock when I lower the electric fence.
But the grass doesn't last long in these conditions.
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Tuesday, 31 December 2019
A grumpy look back at the festive period
There was an almost total lack of Christmas in our house this year.
Anyone who knows me will know quite how grumpy I get at this festive time of year!
It wasn't helped by the boiler breaking down three days before Christmas day, the same day that one of my tooth crowns came out embedded in a wine gum. Unfortunately my life doesn't stop for Christmas, though everybody else's seems to.
Fortunately we managed to get somebody out to fix the boiler (the tooth has to wait till 2020 but at least it's not hurting). On the negative side, the boiler went wrong again on Christmas Eve.
So we spent Christmas huddled in one room, thankfully with woodburner keeping us toasty warm.
Christmas Day itself gave us gorgeous weather. We spent a good couple of hours clearing out some of the veg beds as I put my slowly recovering back to the test. Then it was a short drive to take the dogs for a walk along the River Welland in Crowland while the rest of Britain tucked into a gluttony of turkey and listened to the Queen's Speech.
This meant that we didn't encounter a single other human being while we were out, which was just perfect.
My faith in the human race (well, at least one of them) has since been slightly restored as the boiler man came out the day after boxing day and spent a good couple of hours getting the boiler up and running again and didn't even charge us.
I have been starting to sort my seeds for next year and planning the next rotation of the veg beds. We have a week of dry weather ahead of us which will hopefully sort the ground out a bit too, as Arthur doesn't like walking on the mud or getting his belly wet wading through puddles.
Two days after boxing day I braved the shops - alien territory for me. I have a trip coming up in February and the only clothes I have are old clothes for outdoor work, certainly not suitable for where I am going.
It was all too much for me and we managed to do a whole retail outlet in under an hour. Nothing purchased though.
The penultimate day of the year saw me down in London to have a camera down my throat, part of ongoing surveillance for a genetic condition.
Fortunately they gave me lots of sedation so I don't remember a thing, though the results weren't great and I have to go back again soon. A final kick in the teeth from 2019, which has not been one of my better years. Let's look forward to 2020 and hope that things go a little better.
The final day of 2019 was spent shopping again, this time in Peterborough which has a lot more to offer than Spalding.
Everything went well and I bought everything that I needed, which is fantastic as it means I probably won't need to go back to the shops until late 2020 at the earliest!
Anyone who knows me will know quite how grumpy I get at this festive time of year!
It wasn't helped by the boiler breaking down three days before Christmas day, the same day that one of my tooth crowns came out embedded in a wine gum. Unfortunately my life doesn't stop for Christmas, though everybody else's seems to.
Fortunately we managed to get somebody out to fix the boiler (the tooth has to wait till 2020 but at least it's not hurting). On the negative side, the boiler went wrong again on Christmas Eve.
So we spent Christmas huddled in one room, thankfully with woodburner keeping us toasty warm.
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| Lots of snuggles and the woodburner kept us warm and cosy for Christmas |
This meant that we didn't encounter a single other human being while we were out, which was just perfect.
My faith in the human race (well, at least one of them) has since been slightly restored as the boiler man came out the day after boxing day and spent a good couple of hours getting the boiler up and running again and didn't even charge us.I have been starting to sort my seeds for next year and planning the next rotation of the veg beds. We have a week of dry weather ahead of us which will hopefully sort the ground out a bit too, as Arthur doesn't like walking on the mud or getting his belly wet wading through puddles.
Two days after boxing day I braved the shops - alien territory for me. I have a trip coming up in February and the only clothes I have are old clothes for outdoor work, certainly not suitable for where I am going.
It was all too much for me and we managed to do a whole retail outlet in under an hour. Nothing purchased though.
The penultimate day of the year saw me down in London to have a camera down my throat, part of ongoing surveillance for a genetic condition.
Fortunately they gave me lots of sedation so I don't remember a thing, though the results weren't great and I have to go back again soon. A final kick in the teeth from 2019, which has not been one of my better years. Let's look forward to 2020 and hope that things go a little better.
The final day of 2019 was spent shopping again, this time in Peterborough which has a lot more to offer than Spalding.
Everything went well and I bought everything that I needed, which is fantastic as it means I probably won't need to go back to the shops until late 2020 at the earliest!
Friday, 27 December 2019
High levels of Ractivity
I do my very, very best to work hand in hand with nature, but just sometimes our human activities tip the scales and create an imbalance.
There is an all too common belief amongst a vast majority of Britain's landowners - by which I mean primarily farmers, but also gamekeepers and, to be fair, smallholders and gardeners - that anything which comes onto our land without being invited is to be killed.
Be it rare birds on grouse moorland, foxes, hares, moles or deer, birds or beetles, there seems to be an uncontrollable urge to get rid.
I am no idealist. I realise that the countryside is managed for our needs. But there is a balance to be struck, for Britain's wonderful wildlife was in most cases here before we were and deserves a place to live and thrive.
But some creatures are, in certain circumstances, without a doubt intolerable and have to be treated as pests.
Slugs for one! They are an important part of our British fauna, but in the context of a vegetable plot, a manufactured environment, their population can cascade out of control. I don't use slug pellets but rely on night time forays and the day time duck squad to control numbers.
The pest I want to focus on today is RATS.
I did once sit and watch a colony of rats in a woodland setting and they were quite charming, but in the context of a smallholding they are not quite so desirable.
They are not helped by their long, bare skin tails and their protruding incisors which make them look, well, ratty.
When we moved onto the farm there was a huge rodent problem. The previous incumbents had done just about everything they could to make the place as welcoming to rats as possible.
It didn't take us long to get the situation under control. For most of the problem can be sorted by limiting food sources, clearing debris so rats have to cross open spaces and casuing lots of disturbance as rats are neophobic (they hate anything new).
But living amongst arable fields which are usually wheat and keeping poultry, we are always going to have to be on our guard against rats moving in. Why don't we want them?
For starters, they carry some very nasty diseases. They are destructive too, gnawing their way through anything if there is food on the other side. Worse than this, they will take young poultry and will actually eat young birds alive as they roost at night. We lost several ducklings this year which were in an enclosed stable as a rat managed to squeeze under the gap in the door.
The rats can be a pest in the veg garden too. If they get to the sweetcorn before it ripens they can take out the whole crop in a couple of nights. This happened this year.
For quite a few years we relied on the targeted use of poisons. Whenever we saw evidence of rat activity (I call it ractivity) we would fill up bait boxes and within a week the problem would usually disappear.
This year we had an excellent talk on pest control at the Fenland Smallholders Club. What struck me most was the move away from a reliance on poisons to a more traditional approach of trapping alongside good practice as discussed above.
So I invested in five Fenn traps and made boxes to house them to protect against catching non-target species such as hedgehogs.
Unfortunately our switch in approach has coincided with an unusually bad year for rats. It's not because of the change in approach though, for this increase in the rat population is being reported by all the other smallhodlers I know. It is far more likely down to an exceptionally mild winter last year.
The traps are working, but the rats are clever.
They were avoiding passing through the wooden tunnels (with trap hidden inside) when I placed them in their runs, so now I am placing bait on the traps too. I am just using the same food I feed the chickens, a mix of grains and pulses. I make sure there is no chicken food left at night, which forces the rats to risk that which is in the traps.
I am catching on average one rat every day or so, but they have learnt to get at the food without treading on the trap. Instead they burrow underneath so that the food drops through. Clever little rascals.
When I do catch a rat, I leave it on a gate post and it mysteriously vanishes. I think the crows and the barn owls take them.
This is the good thing about not using poisons, I don't have to worry about harming other wildlife.
I think the current very, very wet ground will cut the population down and a nice cold winter would not go amiss. In the meantime, we are keeping abreast of the problem and I am sure we will see a return to lower levels of ractivity soon enough.
There is an all too common belief amongst a vast majority of Britain's landowners - by which I mean primarily farmers, but also gamekeepers and, to be fair, smallholders and gardeners - that anything which comes onto our land without being invited is to be killed.
Be it rare birds on grouse moorland, foxes, hares, moles or deer, birds or beetles, there seems to be an uncontrollable urge to get rid.
I am no idealist. I realise that the countryside is managed for our needs. But there is a balance to be struck, for Britain's wonderful wildlife was in most cases here before we were and deserves a place to live and thrive.
But some creatures are, in certain circumstances, without a doubt intolerable and have to be treated as pests.
Slugs for one! They are an important part of our British fauna, but in the context of a vegetable plot, a manufactured environment, their population can cascade out of control. I don't use slug pellets but rely on night time forays and the day time duck squad to control numbers.
The pest I want to focus on today is RATS.
I did once sit and watch a colony of rats in a woodland setting and they were quite charming, but in the context of a smallholding they are not quite so desirable.
They are not helped by their long, bare skin tails and their protruding incisors which make them look, well, ratty.
When we moved onto the farm there was a huge rodent problem. The previous incumbents had done just about everything they could to make the place as welcoming to rats as possible.
It didn't take us long to get the situation under control. For most of the problem can be sorted by limiting food sources, clearing debris so rats have to cross open spaces and casuing lots of disturbance as rats are neophobic (they hate anything new).
But living amongst arable fields which are usually wheat and keeping poultry, we are always going to have to be on our guard against rats moving in. Why don't we want them?
For starters, they carry some very nasty diseases. They are destructive too, gnawing their way through anything if there is food on the other side. Worse than this, they will take young poultry and will actually eat young birds alive as they roost at night. We lost several ducklings this year which were in an enclosed stable as a rat managed to squeeze under the gap in the door.
The rats can be a pest in the veg garden too. If they get to the sweetcorn before it ripens they can take out the whole crop in a couple of nights. This happened this year.
For quite a few years we relied on the targeted use of poisons. Whenever we saw evidence of rat activity (I call it ractivity) we would fill up bait boxes and within a week the problem would usually disappear.
This year we had an excellent talk on pest control at the Fenland Smallholders Club. What struck me most was the move away from a reliance on poisons to a more traditional approach of trapping alongside good practice as discussed above.
So I invested in five Fenn traps and made boxes to house them to protect against catching non-target species such as hedgehogs.
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The fen traps do their job very well.
I don't like killing any animals, but this is necessary.
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The traps are working, but the rats are clever.
They were avoiding passing through the wooden tunnels (with trap hidden inside) when I placed them in their runs, so now I am placing bait on the traps too. I am just using the same food I feed the chickens, a mix of grains and pulses. I make sure there is no chicken food left at night, which forces the rats to risk that which is in the traps.
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As you can see the rats often manage to get the food without treading on the traps!
But we are catching enough.
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I am catching on average one rat every day or so, but they have learnt to get at the food without treading on the trap. Instead they burrow underneath so that the food drops through. Clever little rascals.
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A couple of dead rats placed out for
the crows and owls
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This is the good thing about not using poisons, I don't have to worry about harming other wildlife.
I think the current very, very wet ground will cut the population down and a nice cold winter would not go amiss. In the meantime, we are keeping abreast of the problem and I am sure we will see a return to lower levels of ractivity soon enough.
Monday, 23 December 2019
Puddles provide birding bonanza
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| We have plenty of surface water this year, or as I like to call it, our seasonal lake. |
Sunshine has been a rare commodity during 2019. Things were looking great up till June, but then everything went rapidly downhill. Rain, on the other hand, has not been an issue.
This resulted in a poor growing season. Not only did crops not ripen, but beans and squashes didn't get enough sunshine to dry and store properly. Blight did its worst on the spuds and tomatoes too.
Autumn and early winter have been wetter than ever and without warm winds the water takes an age to drain away. We are not too muddy quite yet, but underfoot is slippy and entrances to gateways are getting a little sludgy. Grass growth for the sheep has been poor too and we are already giving them hay and moving them frequently to protect the ground.
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| Sue moves the sheep on a particularly dreary day |
There has, however been one big benefit of bepuddled farmland. The fields around the farm have been heaving with wild birds. Gulls and corvids (the crow family) have been around in far greater numbers than usual, as have waders such as lapwings and golden plovers. Wild swans have been finding it to their liking too.
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| Whooper Swans on the flooded stubble by South Holland Main Drain |
All this has resulted in some excellent birdwatching to keep me busy while my back has stopped me doing anything on the smallholding.
In just a few weeks I have enjoyed three new species for the farm list and a run of excellent records.
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A Green Sandpiper, just the second record in 9 years,
stayed a few days in the dyke.
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Then a strange owl call one evening from the old ash trees just outside the farmhouse. I eventually matched it to a call described as the xylophone trill of courting Tawny Owls. Excellent stuff, the first time I had ever heard this call.
Next late one afternoon at the back end of November I could hear wild swans calling to each other while I tried to round up a sheep that had barged through the electric fence. Light was fading before I could make my way over to the flooded fields by the South Holland Drain, but there were an unprecedented 190 wild swans. The biggest flock here previously was about 50. A distant egret looked quite tall for a Little Egret, which are now regular in the winter, but light was fading way too fast to make out anything more.
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| This Great White Egret hung around for 4 days. |
This bird is following in the footsteps of Little Egret, establishing a breeding toehold in the country and becoming much less rare over winter. But I was still very, very happy that one should choose to spend a few day in the neighbourhood of the farm.
Within a week there was another new bird, but frustratingly the Mediterranean Gull which called loud and clear as it flew over the smallholding could not be seen in the thick fog which enveloped us all day!
Rough-legged Buzzard, Great White Egret and Mediterranean Gull are all scarce birds which I half expected to eventually see here.
But the next new bird for the farm was altogether less expected.
All through November the pools and wet fields have been frequented by wild swans. These have the potential to attract wild geese too. The previous two records of White-fronted Goose have both been in with the swans. There was once an exotic Black Swan too.
On 2nd December there were good numbers of swans over by South Holland Drain so I took the dogs for a late afternoon stroll. I took my binoculars with me so I could scan through the swans and work out how many of the more diminutive Bewick's Swans were in amongst the Whooper Swans. I noticed two small grey geese lurking at the back of the flock. I could just see their heads and necks poking above the stubble.
But with the light fading and no telescope, I couldn't quite work out what they were. It did cross my mind that two Tundra Bean Geese had been with wild swans in Crowland the day before. South Holland Drain continues all the way to Crowland.
I ran back to the farm and opted to drive round to where the geese were. It took an age to relocate them as they had dipped down into a dyke, but I managed to get them in the telescope and they seemed to indeed be Bean Geese. But just at that moment they were disturbed by hare coursers (sadly not that unusual in the fields round here).
I was left frustratingly lacking definitive views, but I was pretty sure what the geese were.
The next morning there was much disturbance in the area from shooters. I left it till mid morning to search for the geese again and was relieved to find them in almost the same spot as yesterday. I was now sure they were Bean Geese, but needed better views. Over the course of the next hour I skirted round the fields and gently approached along a dyke. The geese were hidden from me by reeds, but this gave me the opportunity to sneak up on them. Every few yards I raised my binoculars hoping to see them before they saw me.
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| Tundra Bean Geese |
Frustratingly the geese were not viewable from the farm though. The heads of the taller Whooper Swans could just be seen over the banks of South Holland Drain, but no chance of the geese for the farm list.
Mid afternoon I decided to give it an hour or so viewing from the end of our land. This was more in desperate hope than anything else. If the geese flew I would surely see them, but this was very unlikely.
Then a miracle happened. After a few minutes I noticed a couple of blokes in high vis jackets walking along a nearby footpath. This footpath is regularly used by dog walkers and it seemed unlikely the geese would be disturbed enough to fly. Then I noticed these two were carrying shovels. Remarkably they headed along the dyke which led straight to where the geese were. Apart from hare coursers, I had never seen anybody walk along here before.
The tension rose. Would the geese fly? Would I be able to see them? The swans all took flight and then, above them, two grey geese! Unbelievably the two Tundra Bean Geese led the swan flock right towards me, giving an amazing view. I could make out all of the plumage details to identify them in flight. They even called their distinctive call as they flew right over the farm
I watched them head eastwards with the swans until they were dots. What a result!
There have been no more new birds for the farm since, but just to be able to watch large flocks of lapwings and golden plovers is a joy. This is what the fens might have been like before they became intensive farmland.
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| Lapwings and Golden Plovers |
There is a chance of other waders taking advantage of the standing water too. I have already seen a flock of 6 Snipe and an unprecedented flock of 20 Redshanks (previously only two records of single birds).
Friday, 20 December 2019
Back On Course
At the end of August I developed a bad back. As a gardener, I am no stranger to the occasional back twinge, but this was different. It was disabling and just would not get better.
Eventually I made a rare trip to the doctor which resulted in me being sent a series of physiotherapy exercises to perform daily. Progress has been slow and it has led to me becoming quite depressed. Working outdoors is my joy in life, so not being able to get anything done outside has been a bit of a nightmare.
After the worst growing season we've experienced here on the smallholding, it has not been a good latter part of the year. The only consolation is that the timing of my bad back could have been far worse. I missed some harvesting and didn't get any winter crops in, I wasn't able to clear old beds and sow oats as ground cover, but overall it won't take too much to get back on track.
Finally in the last couple of days I have been able to think forward. I have been clearing canes, cutting back old growth, covering beds with cardboard and even moving a little compost onto some of the beds. And with this comes renewed hope. 2019 is almost behind us and in some ways is best forgotten, but 2020 is a clean slate.
But 2019 wasn't a total loss. I have learned a lot from my experiments with no-dig growing and from using volunteers on the farm. The enforced break was hard and I was beginning to lose heart, but a couple of days of gentle work outside have left me feeling enthused again and my back seems to be holding up as long as I am careful with what I do.
It's that time of year when plans and preparations are made for the coming growing season. On this day last year I planted garlic cloves.
As you can see from the puddles, that task will have to wait a while this year.
After the worst growing season we've experienced here on the smallholding, it has not been a good latter part of the year. The only consolation is that the timing of my bad back could have been far worse. I missed some harvesting and didn't get any winter crops in, I wasn't able to clear old beds and sow oats as ground cover, but overall it won't take too much to get back on track.
Finally in the last couple of days I have been able to think forward. I have been clearing canes, cutting back old growth, covering beds with cardboard and even moving a little compost onto some of the beds. And with this comes renewed hope. 2019 is almost behind us and in some ways is best forgotten, but 2020 is a clean slate.
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Clearance begins and beds are being covered and protected ready for the 2020 growing season.
As you can see, it's all a bit wet at the moment.
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It's that time of year when plans and preparations are made for the coming growing season. On this day last year I planted garlic cloves.
As you can see from the puddles, that task will have to wait a while this year.
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It's been very wet lately. So when we get prolonged rain there is quite simply nowhere for it to go.
It doesn't stay like this for long though. It will gradually seep down through the ground.
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Tuesday, 3 September 2019
The Booby Prize - persistence rewarded
It's been a while since my twitching obsession disrupted my life quite as much as it did last week.
We'll get the sniggers out of the way before we go any further.
The bird in question is called a BROWN BOOBY
😏😂😂😂
You should know by now not to come to my blog for bird photos. There are none unless I shamelessly steal them from someone's twitter or Facebook account. If you want to know what a Brown Booby looks like, you'll have to Google it!
I'll cut the story short, a week last Sunday a photo appeared, taken in Kent of what appeared to be a Brown Booby flying along the Kent coastline some 6 days previous. This seemed unlikely, as there has never been one in this country before and Brown Booby is a tropical species.
Having said that, the photo looked quite good, despite being a bit blurry, but a look-alike gannet could not be ruled out with the 100% confidence that would be needed for such a bold claim.
Then intriguingly last Monday a possible Brown Booby was reported fishing off a beach in Cornwall, seen by a good birder but without binoculars as he was at the beach for the day with his family. Oftentimes when there is a possible sighting of an outrageously rare bird, there is a flurry of further possible sightings, all fed by subliminal suggestion! But this was a good birder and one not with a tendency to get over-excited.
Furthermore, there were mysterious unconfirmed reports of two further sightings at the same beach earlier in the day.
This still wasn't enough to have us heading all the way down to Cornwall (400 miles each way) on a blind goose chase. There was no sign of the bird for the rest of the day.
But what happened the next morning changed everything. Undeniable photos of a Brown Booby feeding just off the beach at St Ives, Cornwall, just a couple of hundred yards from the previous day's sighting.
News came through early enough to jump in the car and head straight to Cornwall (I actually waited a while for my mate Neil to make his way over to me from Norfolk).
Brown Boobies have a habit of hanging out on offshore rocks or even on boats in harbours. There had to be a chance of connecting with this bird today.
The drive down to Cornwall was a relatively smooth one. There was no further news on the bird, except a couple of claims of distant flybys several hours after the initial report to keep our hopes up.
St Ives is a lovely coastal tourist destination, but parking is an absolute nightmare. We ended up parking on the outskirts of town and yomping for half an hour down to St Ives Island, where a myriad of birders were already congregated.
It was a good social occasion, but essentially we spent four hours just staring at the sea, acquainting ourselves with the variable plumages of young gannets, the closest look-alikes for a Brown Booby.
Meanwhile, analysis of photos was indicating that this bird was probably not the same as the bird a week beforehand in Kent. Astonishing.
By sunset we had decided to stay the next day. The Booby Prize would be worth the effort. We found some digs near Helston and suffered the worst curry I have ever had. Beware curries in Helston!
Early next morning saw a crowd assembled back at the small Chapel on St Ives Island. (Good to see the chapel still being used for a form of religion - twitching!) This point gave us quick access to both the beaches where the bird had previously been seen. It also gave sweeping views over Carbis Bay, about 6 miles across. The most likely place for the bird to roost and perch up during the day seemed to be Godrevy island at the far end of the bay with its rocky stacks and lighthouse, but it had been checked as thoroughly as possible without success.
Today's weather was squally. Every time the rain came in, visibility across the bay worsened. The only good thing was that it brought the seabirds, including streams of shearwaters, close into shore. St Ives used to be the prime seawatching site in Britain until parking became such a nightmare and drove observers elsewhere.
By 10am the mood was damp. Even the most optimistic of us were starting to think that this was not going to happen.
Then a call went up. What was maybe, possibly, probably the bird was feeding with gannets off the beach. 3.5km away!
We could see the bird in question all the way across the bay but the weather came in again. I was on it for 5 minutes, but never gained conclusive views. It was almost certainly the Booby, but this situation was not ideal. A few had better glimpses and were convinced. Many were unconvinced and some were adamant the bird was just a young gannet. It is entirely possible that many never actually got onto the right bird, for what I saw was pretty convincing, just not cast iron.
Still, this was positive. Surely the bird in question would come back at some point in the day and some people were heading over in that direction to confirm the sighting if it came back.
But no. Not another sniff. All day. Not a dicky bird.
We stood there all day and just got wet.
Debate raged. Had people seen the Booby? Had people let their desire to see the Booby cloud their judgement? On the whole I thought I had almost certainly seen the right bird, but after much wavering I decided I couldn't justify ticking it on my list.
The drive back to Fenland was a slightly dejected one. We wanted to stay another night really, but both had things to do back home and there had been no confirmed sightings for a day and a half.
Next morning I awoke and was relieved to see that there was still no sign of the Booby. We had made the right decision to drive back. I rolled over, only for the phone to instantly announce the bird was fishing just offshore in the same place as whatever we had seen yesterday.
I won't repeat the words that came out of my mouth.
Neil and I resolved to do what we needed to do at home and then head back down to Cornwall overnight. The bird was not seen for the rest of the day, but a possible pattern of morning sightings was emerging. Fortunately for me it was Neil's turn to drive.
This time we headed for the beach car park in the bay where the bird had been seen. We arrived back at Gwithian Beach at 2am and attempted to get a few hours sleep. By first light there were maybe 80 others with the same plan, many with a similar story to ours.
We set up telescopes in the dunes and stared at the sea. We watched the tide go out and in again. We watched the surfers descend on the beach and leave again. Apart from a brief visit into town to get Pasties, cash and petrol, we sat there all day. Nothing.
Even worse, a Brown Booby had turned up in NW France, just 250km as the Booby flies. Brown Boobies are not exactly common on this side of The Atlantic and there was a distinct probability that we had been searching all day for a bird which was now in France.
Being stubborn / persistent / stupid, we decided to stay overnight and try again in the morning. Our chances of seeing the bird had slipped from an optimistic estimate of about 80% in the morning to somewhere in single figures.
An excellent fish and chip supper in the evening lifted our spirits slightly, as did news that the French bird was a full adult and not our bird. We clung onto the hope that one possible sighting by one single observer today may mean that the bird had not actually departed and that we had just got very unlucky.
Brown Booby Day Four
Day 4 went pretty much as Day 3, except we had more squally showers to deal with just to dampen the spirits further. I had set a deadline of 10am (though this would undoubtedly be stretched).
By 9.30 I was at a pretty low ebb. There were only about six of us left outside searching. Most others were taking shelter in their cars.
This was the most effort I had ever put into seeing a bird. At times like this we wonder why we do it.
A few minutes later, the answer came! Andy sat next to me. "Hang on! Surely this is it!" he exclaimed. Fortunately for me the bird was right under Godrevy lighthouse so I got straight onto it. I tried to give myself reasons why it was just a gannet, but no, this was it, THE BOOBY, no question.
We shouted and gestured wildly for everybody else to come out of their cars. I didn't dare take my eyes off the bird as I called directions, but I really wanted to look behind me to see the complete commotion.
That feeling, after four days of persistence, to finally see the bird was amazing. Resilience and perseverance can be in short supply these days but they bring rewards in the world of twitching.
The Brown Booby was flying about and diving in amongst the gannets, though still distant. After a while, and with everyone now on the bird, it sat on the water and drifted awhile before again taking off and flying straight across the bay and straight towards us. It then gave amazing views as it fished just offshore before continuing along the coast, eventually heading out of view past St Ives Island where we had been viewing from a few days before.
There was a real buzz of excitement around the place. I see these people maybe just a few times a year, I never know when or where it will be, but we all meet up with a single purpose.
Neil and I decided to head down to the very tip of Cornwall to see another bird which I had only seen a couple of before, a Western Bonelli's Warbler. A little pale warbler, this could not be more different from the Brown Booby. It called loudly but was a little bugger to see well. Just as we were leaving this bird and contemplating the long drive home, more news on the Booby. For the first time in six days it had perched up on a rock - a rock that we had spent several hours staring at a few days before.
We headed back through heavy traffic towards St Ives, but before we got too close the bird flew off and disappeared.
Time to go home.
There was just time to pop in and see a rare Long-tailed Blue Butterfly on the way home. We finally rolled back onto the farm just after 9pm, half way through Sue's party to celebrate 30 years of teaching. I had a swift couple of beers to celebrate.
After the event
The Booby was later seen passing a seawatching point to the south-west, the first time as far as anybody knew that it had headed this way. Despite this, the immense rarity of a Brown Booby still lured people down to Cornwall the next day, but they were to be disappointed.
Many though had learned their lesson and did not give up. A week after the second Brown Booby for Britain had turned up, they stayed overnight only to again be disappointed in the morning...
until, that is, on the south coast of Cornwall, Britain's third ever Brown Booby was discovered sitting on a rock.
Remarkable stuff. It seems that Brown Boobies come in threes. With the bird in France (their first ever) demonstrably different to our three, it would seem there has been an unprecedented influx of this tropical seabird into North Eastern Atlantic waters.
Who's to say there won't be more in the coming days.
What a hobby!
We'll get the sniggers out of the way before we go any further.
The bird in question is called a BROWN BOOBY
😏😂😂😂
You should know by now not to come to my blog for bird photos. There are none unless I shamelessly steal them from someone's twitter or Facebook account. If you want to know what a Brown Booby looks like, you'll have to Google it!
I'll cut the story short, a week last Sunday a photo appeared, taken in Kent of what appeared to be a Brown Booby flying along the Kent coastline some 6 days previous. This seemed unlikely, as there has never been one in this country before and Brown Booby is a tropical species.
Having said that, the photo looked quite good, despite being a bit blurry, but a look-alike gannet could not be ruled out with the 100% confidence that would be needed for such a bold claim.
Then intriguingly last Monday a possible Brown Booby was reported fishing off a beach in Cornwall, seen by a good birder but without binoculars as he was at the beach for the day with his family. Oftentimes when there is a possible sighting of an outrageously rare bird, there is a flurry of further possible sightings, all fed by subliminal suggestion! But this was a good birder and one not with a tendency to get over-excited.
Furthermore, there were mysterious unconfirmed reports of two further sightings at the same beach earlier in the day.
This still wasn't enough to have us heading all the way down to Cornwall (400 miles each way) on a blind goose chase. There was no sign of the bird for the rest of the day.
But what happened the next morning changed everything. Undeniable photos of a Brown Booby feeding just off the beach at St Ives, Cornwall, just a couple of hundred yards from the previous day's sighting.
News came through early enough to jump in the car and head straight to Cornwall (I actually waited a while for my mate Neil to make his way over to me from Norfolk).
Brown Boobies have a habit of hanging out on offshore rocks or even on boats in harbours. There had to be a chance of connecting with this bird today.
The drive down to Cornwall was a relatively smooth one. There was no further news on the bird, except a couple of claims of distant flybys several hours after the initial report to keep our hopes up.
St Ives is a lovely coastal tourist destination, but parking is an absolute nightmare. We ended up parking on the outskirts of town and yomping for half an hour down to St Ives Island, where a myriad of birders were already congregated.
It was a good social occasion, but essentially we spent four hours just staring at the sea, acquainting ourselves with the variable plumages of young gannets, the closest look-alikes for a Brown Booby.
Meanwhile, analysis of photos was indicating that this bird was probably not the same as the bird a week beforehand in Kent. Astonishing.
By sunset we had decided to stay the next day. The Booby Prize would be worth the effort. We found some digs near Helston and suffered the worst curry I have ever had. Beware curries in Helston!
 |
| Last knockings and still no sign 😟 |
 |
| Looking west from St Ives Island. The bird was initially spotted feeding just offshore here, but not while we were there! |
By 10am the mood was damp. Even the most optimistic of us were starting to think that this was not going to happen.
Then a call went up. What was maybe, possibly, probably the bird was feeding with gannets off the beach. 3.5km away!
We could see the bird in question all the way across the bay but the weather came in again. I was on it for 5 minutes, but never gained conclusive views. It was almost certainly the Booby, but this situation was not ideal. A few had better glimpses and were convinced. Many were unconvinced and some were adamant the bird was just a young gannet. It is entirely possible that many never actually got onto the right bird, for what I saw was pretty convincing, just not cast iron.
Still, this was positive. Surely the bird in question would come back at some point in the day and some people were heading over in that direction to confirm the sighting if it came back.
But no. Not another sniff. All day. Not a dicky bird.
We stood there all day and just got wet.
Debate raged. Had people seen the Booby? Had people let their desire to see the Booby cloud their judgement? On the whole I thought I had almost certainly seen the right bird, but after much wavering I decided I couldn't justify ticking it on my list.
The drive back to Fenland was a slightly dejected one. We wanted to stay another night really, but both had things to do back home and there had been no confirmed sightings for a day and a half.
Next morning I awoke and was relieved to see that there was still no sign of the Booby. We had made the right decision to drive back. I rolled over, only for the phone to instantly announce the bird was fishing just offshore in the same place as whatever we had seen yesterday.
I won't repeat the words that came out of my mouth.
Neil and I resolved to do what we needed to do at home and then head back down to Cornwall overnight. The bird was not seen for the rest of the day, but a possible pattern of morning sightings was emerging. Fortunately for me it was Neil's turn to drive.
This time we headed for the beach car park in the bay where the bird had been seen. We arrived back at Gwithian Beach at 2am and attempted to get a few hours sleep. By first light there were maybe 80 others with the same plan, many with a similar story to ours.
We set up telescopes in the dunes and stared at the sea. We watched the tide go out and in again. We watched the surfers descend on the beach and leave again. Apart from a brief visit into town to get Pasties, cash and petrol, we sat there all day. Nothing.
Even worse, a Brown Booby had turned up in NW France, just 250km as the Booby flies. Brown Boobies are not exactly common on this side of The Atlantic and there was a distinct probability that we had been searching all day for a bird which was now in France.
Being stubborn / persistent / stupid, we decided to stay overnight and try again in the morning. Our chances of seeing the bird had slipped from an optimistic estimate of about 80% in the morning to somewhere in single figures.
An excellent fish and chip supper in the evening lifted our spirits slightly, as did news that the French bird was a full adult and not our bird. We clung onto the hope that one possible sighting by one single observer today may mean that the bird had not actually departed and that we had just got very unlucky.
Brown Booby Day Four
Day 4 went pretty much as Day 3, except we had more squally showers to deal with just to dampen the spirits further. I had set a deadline of 10am (though this would undoubtedly be stretched).
By 9.30 I was at a pretty low ebb. There were only about six of us left outside searching. Most others were taking shelter in their cars.
This was the most effort I had ever put into seeing a bird. At times like this we wonder why we do it.
A few minutes later, the answer came! Andy sat next to me. "Hang on! Surely this is it!" he exclaimed. Fortunately for me the bird was right under Godrevy lighthouse so I got straight onto it. I tried to give myself reasons why it was just a gannet, but no, this was it, THE BOOBY, no question.
We shouted and gestured wildly for everybody else to come out of their cars. I didn't dare take my eyes off the bird as I called directions, but I really wanted to look behind me to see the complete commotion.
That feeling, after four days of persistence, to finally see the bird was amazing. Resilience and perseverance can be in short supply these days but they bring rewards in the world of twitching.
The Brown Booby was flying about and diving in amongst the gannets, though still distant. After a while, and with everyone now on the bird, it sat on the water and drifted awhile before again taking off and flying straight across the bay and straight towards us. It then gave amazing views as it fished just offshore before continuing along the coast, eventually heading out of view past St Ives Island where we had been viewing from a few days before.
There was a real buzz of excitement around the place. I see these people maybe just a few times a year, I never know when or where it will be, but we all meet up with a single purpose.
Neil and I decided to head down to the very tip of Cornwall to see another bird which I had only seen a couple of before, a Western Bonelli's Warbler. A little pale warbler, this could not be more different from the Brown Booby. It called loudly but was a little bugger to see well. Just as we were leaving this bird and contemplating the long drive home, more news on the Booby. For the first time in six days it had perched up on a rock - a rock that we had spent several hours staring at a few days before.
We headed back through heavy traffic towards St Ives, but before we got too close the bird flew off and disappeared.
Time to go home.
 |
| Broad-leaved Everlasting Peas - home to Long-tailed Blue butterfly |
After the event
The Booby was later seen passing a seawatching point to the south-west, the first time as far as anybody knew that it had headed this way. Despite this, the immense rarity of a Brown Booby still lured people down to Cornwall the next day, but they were to be disappointed.
Many though had learned their lesson and did not give up. A week after the second Brown Booby for Britain had turned up, they stayed overnight only to again be disappointed in the morning...
until, that is, on the south coast of Cornwall, Britain's third ever Brown Booby was discovered sitting on a rock.
Remarkable stuff. It seems that Brown Boobies come in threes. With the bird in France (their first ever) demonstrably different to our three, it would seem there has been an unprecedented influx of this tropical seabird into North Eastern Atlantic waters.
Who's to say there won't be more in the coming days.
What a hobby!
Monday, 26 August 2019
Unexpected Windfalls
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| Red Admirals are appreciating the fruity windfall too |
So far this year we have had a winter with virtually no frost, we had about a foot of rain in 3 days and we had temperatures touching on 100F.
Every year has its variables but these weather extremes seem to be more and more frequent and each comes with its own challenges for growing food.On this occasion it was strong winds that did the damage. Many plums and apples fell from the trees, but worse still was the damage to several of my plum trees. Our recent weather seems to be encouraging rapid, soft growth of new wood which does not stand up to the strong winds which often come in August when the trees are fully laden with leaves and fruits.
The trees which sustained the most damage were actually those which were not overburdened with fruit.
The damage did me one favour though. One of my plum trees went severely off piste a few years back. Basically the rootstock outgrew the grafted tree and we ended up with a huge tree which bore very little fruit. It looked good, but was growing fast and taking too much from the surrounding fruit trees.
Last week's winds literally split the trunk into four, so it was time to 'lightly prune'. Fortunately plum leaves and bark are a favourite for the Shetland sheep.
Fungal disaster avoided
Wet and warm weather is leading to more problems arising from fungal diseases. One of the plum trees in the chicken pen was absolutely dripping with fruits and I hadn't got round to thinning them adequately. Just as they were turning ripe, brown rot set in. Every fruit was rotting on the tree just as it was ripening. It looked as if we would lose the whole crop, as well as potentially infecting all the other plum trees.
I carefully picked every plum that was showing any signs of rot, often precariously balanced a the top of a step ladder, and removed every single trace of fruit from the ground. These weren't wasted, as the sheep very much appreciated them.
I have continued to remove any infected fruits and any that have dropped to the ground and disaster seems to have been averted.
Over the last few days Sue has picked a thousand plums off just one tree. It is still not empty.
Self-thinning Apple trees
We missed the June drop this year - this is when fruit trees often drop much of their fruit. in response to environmental stress. I didn't really keep on top of manually thinning the fruits either. This should really be done for several reasons. The branches can split under the strain of too much fruit; fewer large fruits are generally better than multiple dwarf fruits; thinning the fruit allows for improved air circulation.
The recent winds fixed the problem of not thinning though! Many apples came off, to the delight of the geese and sheep.
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Looking Back - Featured post
ONE THOUSAND BLOG POSTS IN PICTURES
Ten years and a thousand blog posts! Enjoy. Pictures in no particular order.
