Dem bones

We have spoiled Roxy something rotten - but it's what you do, isn't it? Only this weekend, I suddenly found myself becoming a 'baby bore'; Julie had to nudge me sharply and tell me to stop showing this poor woman photographs of Roxy. I wouldn't have minded, but Julie had already shown people the pictures on her own phone...

Of all the toys that Roxy has available to play with, the one she is currently most enamoured with is a tatty orange football that somehow appeared in our back garden over the last winter. Nobody has laid claim to it, so I decided to let Roxy play with it. And play she does. Now partly deflated, it serves as a chew toy, a tugger and something to chase and fetch.

Apart from that, she has a tennis ball, a rope-pull, a long rubber tug-toy, and a vinyl bone shaped chew toy that is apparently bacon flavoured. I say apparently, as I have yet to have a nibble on it. Wait - that makes it sound like I want to... Nope. Nuh-uh. No way.

The bone looks a bit like this, and Roxy does like to have a chew on it now and then. The only problem is that her teeth appear to be a little delicate; We often see little specks of blood on it when the gums have had a little too much battering. Fortunately, Roxy does seem to know when to stop, so we are happy to let her keep it for the occasional chew.

The other day, we were all in the living room, and Roxy decided she wanted to chew on the bone for a bit. After a while, she stopped and began to smack her mouth and lick her lips. I knew what had happened, and a quick glance at the bone confirmed it.

I now have this image of a pig, snout down in its trough, oblivious to the fact Roxy is determinedly gnawing on its back leg...

Swine on the sly

Some time ago, I mentioned that Julie had been referring to a running gag in one of her Gems (this one, in fact). And you know what? I quite forgot to mention the Gem that started it all off.

It all began innocently enough - for one of our conversations, at least. A nice drive in the countryside, windows down and enjoying the warm, if fragrant, air. Playing 'spot the farm animals'...

Wait, what?

Well, the thing is, we often use statements that don't just verge on The Bleedin' Obvious, but rush in and take over its territory - all in the name of having a conversation opener. My father used to do this too ("It's uphill, this bit"). However, silly is as silly does. If you opt to start a conversation with a daft opening, you can't really complain if the whole exchange ends up the same way...

You'll have noticed that by the end of that lot I had caught the bug and was operating at Gem level myself...

Nothing to sniff at.

Yesterday evening, me and Julie decided to do something we haven't had the time or energy to do for a long time - go out for a drive in the evening. What? Did you think I was going to say something else?

We got ourselves a bite to eat at a chippy and then drove to a nice viewpoint in Bexhill, listening to a little Americana on the radio. Nice as the view was though, the nights are now drawing in and there's not an awful lot to look at once the sun has gone down completely.

Hence the drive.

We stuck to the main roads, because small country roads in the dark can be pretty nerve-wracking to drive along. Yes, you can see traffic a little easier, because they should have their headlights on. What worries me is that pedestrians are another matter - and then there are the idiot cyclists who insist on wearing dark clothes...
</rant>

One road, however, was both a large road and in the countryside. And it appeared that agricultural things had been occurring - if the smell was anything to go by. It was definitely smelling a tad rural. Julie was having trouble trying to place a name on the smell, though...

There wasn't a lot I could say to that, so I shall leave it to this cow's expression.

Rare Breed Week: Happy as a pig in wotnot

For our final post in our week-long special celebrating our trip to the South of England Rare Breeds Centre (SERBC), we're going to continue our stroll through the centre's extensive grounds, through wild woodlands, open fields and well-maintained orchards.
As I mentioned before, here and there along the route, there were notices, giving information about various plants and animals, both domesticated and wild, that could be found in that area. Furthermore, there was a series of fun questions for younger children, based on pigs.

In Wednesday's post, Julie seemed to be under the impression that pigs were mute until someone had popped them into the oven and begun to roast them. Yes, we were being silly (no change there, eh?).

A little further into the woods, we found another sign, one which was concerned with how pigs protect themselves from the elements...

Damn... now I'm hungry...

Rare Breed Week: Spot the birds

Wotcha and welcome; we've got another themed week for you, one that is all to do with The South of England Rare Breeds Centre.

Unusually for a 'visiting farm' (one that is for tourism/education as opposed to a true working farm), the SERBC is also a charity, one that helps children and adults with learning difficulties and special needs. Quite admirably, this policy isn't limited to the visitors; when we went, there were a few employees/volunteers that fit this category.
Good for them.

Over the last few months, Julie and myself have been to a number of animal, plant and wildlife places. I hesitate to call them 'attractions, because that makes them sound like some theme park. The wildest ride we have been on with these places was a tractor-and-trailer ride at the SERBC.

It's easily one of the best places we have been to. The entry fee is not too bad, and there is plenty to do and see when you get there. Plenty of animals, usually varieties of domestic breeds in paddocks and fields, a children's petting area. There is also an aviary, but the best birds were the ones that were allowed to roam as they pleased.

Generally, the ducks, coots and other waterfowl were content to stay close to the water (I know, what a surprise, eh?) The Guinea fowl, on the other hand, were somewhat restive and were rarely in the same place for more than a minute. Between curiosity and their almost constant bickering, they were all over the place and we kept seeing one Guinea fowl or another in various locations.

Julie was fascinated by the birds' exotic markings, and no wonder - if you stare at their torsos for too long, it becomes a pretty trippy experience.

...no comment.

Friesians on the funny farm (AKA "Old MacDonald had a wotnot")

The other day, I told you how Julie's mouth jumps in before the brain has a chance to react, and I illustrated that with an example where two farm animals were confused (link).

What I didn't tell you, however, was that the theme was continued for the rest of the day, segueing from one bizarre conversation to another, where pigs were apparently fed up with their lot and spent their days masquerading as other animals, and ... no. I think I'll save that one for another day...
You get the point, though.

There are a lot of fields just outside of town, and since it's really low-lying land, pretty dreadful for crops. Enter the cows and sheep.
The sheep must have got wind of our impending arrival, for there was not a one to be seen. Instead, there were just a few cows dotted around the field.*

I'd seen the cows from a distance away, but it seemed Julie was drifting, as she didn't really notice them until we had almost passed them.

Well.. yeah...
Julie explained to me afterwards that she was merely continuing a running gag. Funny - I don't recall one conversation constituting a running gag...
It may not have been - it is now.

I'll tell you what, with all the running gags and in-jokes we have, any passengers in our car are going to be seriously baffled.


*Including one cow that was having some trouble and was instead dotting around the field... ew...

Diggin' down on the farm

If Julie has a fault - unlikely, I know - it's that her mouth has a tendency to say something before the brain gets a chance to edit it.
Unfortunately, Julie's mouth doesn't have access to all the knowledge that her brain does, so it tends to tag things and respond accordingly, even when the situation doesn't completely conform to her brain's definitions.

Here's a prime example. We were out for a drive the other day, shunning the main roads as normal and pootling around the small lanes - dodging into gateways every now and then to allow oncoming traffic to pass. Not a lot of conversation was going on; what with the narrow lanes and tall hedges, I needed to be careful with my own driving, just in case someone coming the other way wasn't careful with theirs.

When it comes to this, Julie tends to drift and take only passing note of the scenery, near and far. When we passed (yet another) gate leading onto a field, we caught a fleeting glimpse of an animal with black and white colouring.

Actually, no. Not 'moo'. More like 'whinney' or 'neigh'.
Yep. It was a horse. However, Julie's mouth had done its party trick and made what it had thought to be the obvious connection. Unfortunately for Julie, I had also seen the beastie in question and had recognised its equine nature.
I laughed, and Julie knew immediately what had happened and switched the running of the mouth over to her brain, admitting that it was, indeed, a horse.

Sadly, Julie lost the chance to leave it there and almost literally dug herself deeper.

No. I don't think so.
They're yellow.

Dirty old world

One of the things that Julie and me like to do to relax is to go for a drive. For us, it's a great way to de-stress ourselves. If I have a bad head, for some reason, it works wonders to get into the car and just pootle about for an hour or so. What we like to do is go exploring; lots of little roads, places we've gone past, names we've seen on signposts. Alternatively, just driving along long stretches of road, enjoying the air (if it's warm enough) and listening to music.
That's if Julie manages to stay awake, that is. There's something about the movement of the car that just lulls her to sleep. She has often said that if someone came up with a bed that mimicked the motion of a moving car - while remaining in the one place - then they could make a fortune.

Naturally, we do enjoy the scenery, but as the driver, I tend to miss a lot - we tend to agree that concentrating on the road should be my main objective.* However, because I do pay a lot of attention to details, I often see things that Julie misses or has not seen until then. My peripheral vision will pick up things like the slight movement of a rabbit by the roadside, or some bird of prey hovering over a field.

Red Kite in Wales. Pic from Byrdir, a farm that does accommodation
and has a nice little blog going too. http://byrdir.co.uk/

In contrast, and possibly caused by the aforementioned lulling motion of the car, Julie's visual acuity seems to be less than 20/20...

Quite possibly, love, quite possibly.

*My father was notorious for not being able to keep his eyes on the road. It was very common that we would have to act as a second and maybe even third pair of eyes. I especially recall one family holiday in France. We were driving along one side of a beautiful valley, and Dad was constantly distracted by the admittedly gorgeous scenery on the other side.

(Dad) "That's a pretty chateau over there." 

(us) "It's a very attractive road in front of us, Dad!"

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PS
I'll tell you what; when I went looking for a picture of a red kite, I never expected to find one as part of a blog by a Welsh farm, a farm that has a large amount of accommodation to its name.
The front of the website looked so good, I decided to see what the options for staying there were like. Very nice, as it happens. A beautiful location, nice cottages to stay in... I think I might have to keep this place in mind for sometime in the future (when we have the money, in other words).
Here's the link again http://byrdir.co.uk/