I had a dreadful shock a few days back when I received a telephone call saying that our daughter Clare was cycling home from work when a lunatic car driver knocked her off of her bicycle.
The car driver beat a hasty retreat leaving Clare lying on the pavement with a broken ulna and shattered elbow. Thankfully, a passerby went to Clare's assistance and after a short stay in hospital having her elbow rebuilt (broken in five places) Clare is now home with us, recuperating.
I am so thrilled that you visited my new web site, Cornwall Turkeys, Click Here and that you liked it. What did you think about my chickadees - aren't they the cutest little creatures?
The rotating part of the incubator was turned off last Sunday (25th day) and just a day later, I found four newly hatched turkey poults. As I wasn't expecting anything to happen before Tuesday/Wednesday, the poults' arrival was unexpected. I had nine poults hatch from eleven eggs, so I was well pleased.
After twenty four hours, I moved the chickadees into the brooder and switched off the incubator, ready to clean and disinfect it. As I picked up the two unhatched eggs to dispose of them, I heard a cheeping noise. I was so startled, I almost dropped the egg! Very quickly, I switched the incubator back on, replaced the egg in the incubator and sprayed the cheeping egg to restore the humidity. After a few minutes, it was obvious the poult was in trouble, so going against every rule in the book, I helped the poult break out of the shell. I am delighted to tell you the poult survived and is now out with the other chickadees in the brooder.
Frank, Clare and I were planning to go to the Royal Cornwall Show today, but as it is very cold, blowing a gale and tipping down with rain, we very quickly changed our minds. It is one thing to get soaked when wandering about doing our chores on the farm, but quite another to be knee deep in mud looking at trade stands. The Royal Cornwall is a three day event, so if the weather improves tomorrow, we may go then.
This awful weather of ours has prevented me from doing the gardening work I had planned. The front garden is one giant weed patch and it is driving me crazy. Apart from a few fine days in May, the weather has been dreadful. Surely summer must come soon!
Gosh, I had lots of lovely emails from you following the previous newsletter.
Tammy, who lives in Canada, says she loves the entertaining chronicles of my adventures with farm animals. That is a very posh way of describing my chatter, Tammy.
Rosy, from Lincolnshire, collects feathers and after visiting the web site, asked if I had a couple of Narragansett feathers I could send her. I should have some after the next moult, Rosy, so just drop me a line and remind me, please. The memory is not what it was!
Ellen wrote in to let me know that when she was younger and living in South Devon, her mum used to raise Norfolk Black turkeys for the Christmas trade. I am sure it is considered quite illogical in turkey circles, Ellen, but I am happy to just sell on the poults as I just cannot bring myself to do the final deed.
Sally, from South Devon, emailed to let me know that she almost lost Daffy, her Aylesbury Duck, to a fox attack. Poor old Daffy is in a bad way and under the care of a vet. You have to be so careful about foxes these days, Sally, as they seem to be getting far bolder than I remember.
Daffy News Update: I am so pleased to let you know that after some tender loving care from Sally and antibiotics from the vet, Daffy is now on the road to a full recovery. Isn't that great news?
I received a lovely email from Hilda, who lives in South Africa (chilly weather at 21 C, Hilda?). Hilda told me about a Canadian friend of hers who is hand raising some goslings because the Mama Goose would not settle. Chickens and turkeys can be awkward like that too, Hilda.
Lindsey wrote to advise me not to get attached to my chickadees. Too late, Lindsey! They are already firmly entangled with my heart strings.
Okay folks! Time to get that cuppa ready. I have my coffee to hand and for a change, I am also having some hot, buttered toast - home made bread, of course.