Green and pleasant

I went for a walk locally yesterday and can't  quite believe how lush and green is the countryside of the Churnet Valley compared to only 25 miles east around Derby and Nottingham. That slightly frustrating period of a daily drizzle is suddenly worth it. Hopefully this means local woods and gardens will cope with this heat wave. 

Our current holiday cottage guests are making the most of the sunny terrace and parasol as well as the benches in the little nature reserve. We were chatting with them and all agreed we're loving this August weather and the pleasure of an evening stroll through the cool woods.

For the latest availability please check online or contact us. We currently have holiday cottage availability in August. Explore the Peak District and Churnet Valley. 

Snowy round here - proper Peak District

Feb 2018 - we were checking the road conditions

We've had a lot of snowy days this winter. The Churnet Valley has been looking spectacular, particularly from the vantage point of our hill top.

This morning I wasn't sure about getting off our hill as it is 16% descent in all directions! We have a 4x4 but it is rubbish at this sort surface - just a heavy old car that slides towards the ditch given half a chance. Anyway, we made it after a bit of effort throwing grit around. My son was only and hour or so late for school. Oh well.

Mrs Duck says it's spring at the holiday cottage

Mrs Duck celebrated spring by laying her first egg of the year.  The first of many I hope.  My son sells them to the holiday cottage guests for 30p per egg - they are great for baking but I prefer our hen's eggs for my boiled egg breakfast.

Mr Duck is also affected by the arrival of spring, feeling a greater need to chase the hens off 'his' patch.  He is very aggressive with them.  Stewart, the cockerel, is no match for Mr Duck's temper.

New arrivals to holiday cottage fields

Always lovely when the ewes and their lambs are turned out into the fields. We are having to remember to keep the gate shut now so that these little cuties don't graze the plants I just planted around the new terrace of the holiday cottage.

Barks Holiday Cottage, 01538 703436

Spring at the Holiday Cottage

I have to confess that I have egg on my face. Well technically I suppose I actually don't have egg on my face because I made such a fundamental cock up that it isn't possible. Sorry if anyone thinks this is offensive language but you'll see where I'm going with this in a second.



Ashes the hen outside the holiday cottage

 Those that follow 'Barks Holiday Cottage nr Alton Towers' on Facebook might remember that some time ago I asked for suggestions for names for our new hens, the offspring of Stewart and Ashes. I can't say that we were overwhelmed by suggestions from our Facebook fans (you miserable lot!) so after much thought I named the two chicks myself. I sought names to do with fire (after Ashes and their aunt Cinders) but also I need to consider their markings because otherwise I don't have a clue which hen is which.

Chicks reach 'point of lay' after so many weeks and I was expecting some egg laying action from these youngsters anytime after November, but probably more like now. One of the ways to tell if a hen is about to lay eggs is to check the fullness of its crown. Recently these plump birds have been filling out in the crown department and as the other hens begin to lay in earnest I thought it was time these ladies joined in.

Yesterday my elderly neighbour and her grand-daughter joined us for lunch prior to our visit to nearby Blackbrook Zoo (only 99p entry right now so those looking for last minute self-catering ideas please take note that it's all go around here even when Alton Towers is closed). My neighbour catches sight of our hens lazily looking for pickings beneath the bird table outside our french windows and casually asks me when we took ownership of a different cockerel. No such thing had happened I reply assuredly, we were retaining Stewart despite his unhealthy intimacy with his sisters. And no, those young birds are Phoenix and Flash, last year's chicks and no, they are most definitely hen birds. How do you know? I just know!

You can see where this is going by now, I bet. That same afternoon I heard a strange croaky sort of cock-a-doodle-do and sent my son to the window to investigate. How much proof does a person need to make her change a firmly held perception? This was not the voice of Stewart; I had accepted that immediately, but when I am told that Phoenix is crowing I needed to check. Suddenly the fullness of the crown and size of the birds couldn't be justified away as an aspect of this breed. The recent spat between Phoenix and Flash couldn't be explained away as establishing a sisterly pecking order. These adolescent birds have reached a level of maturity this week, but I hadn't really seen what was taking place in front of me because I had convinced myself way back that they were hen birds.

So I guess that we have 'chicken' on the menu soon. Stewart was so called because, as our explanation goes, he is nicknamed 'Stew, because he soon will be'. But a year has gone by and he has reverted to his full name, Stewart, because nobody in our household wants to stew such a fine creature, of whom we have become so fond. Phoenix and Flash, however have a more certain fate. Phoenix, it turns out, will not rise from the flames and Flash is now thought of as 'Flash in the pan'.

Meanwhile I wish I hadn't refuted my neighbour's assertion quite so confidently. There is no getting around the fact that I now have egg on my face over such an elementary poulty-keeping cock up.

Speckedly Brown and the fox

The foxes have been busy, with their minds on the matter of spring.  A big golden dog fox has been seen quite frequently and we have been worrying for our free range hens.  He is a handsome, countryside fox, who looks you in the eye, unafraid.

Yesterday, as we set off on the hike to school, we heard a squeal from the woods and identified it as the fox.  We nipped back and put the hens into their run.  We let them out on our return, and they fluffed up their feathers, shook indignantly and set off purposefully up the track towards the cottages; on a mission to raid bird tables I rather suspect. 

Dear Speckedly Brown, my trusty broody hen, seemed to be the one leading them away.  Stuart, the cockerel, considered coming back to my call, but his duty was to stay with his girls and he followed them away.  I watched them leave.  I felt at the time their journey was high risk and intended to find some treats to tempt them back home but once indoors I was distracted by other matters.

Poor Speckedly Brown did not return.  We hunted for her at dusk, but there was no sign.  We looked for evidence of her demise, but there is not even a stray feather. 

Cinders, Ashes, Fenny and Suart .... stay close please.

Hens

We took delivery of a hen house on Saturday and some hens yesterday. Not an obvious time of year to start keeping hens, because we'll feed them all winter and as the nights draw in they won't lay so many eggs.

We went to a genuine farm dispersal sale last weekend. It was a fascinating event on so many levels. A reclusive old local farmer had lived on this 90 acre farm in the middle of nowhere all his life and now he has moved to a care home. I can only imagine that he held this fate at bay as long as possible, but seeing the state of the farmhouse I guess another winter was out of the question despite the amazing efforts of Staffordshire Moorlands visiting carers.

Many that turned up to the farm sale did so out of respect for this farmer, as much as to seize a bargain in these tough times. I overheard farmers and labourers with local accents so strong it could be called a dialect. There were a few other women, some children allowed to lark about on the haystack and farm machinery, but this event was noticeably dominated by local farmers; all white, predominantly male. They are a hardy close-knit local bunch, many of whom have been on their farms for generations. As a southern 'incomer' I felt priveleged to have been there, as I would if I'd been camel herding with the Bedouins or driving llamas up a mountain in Tibet.

So I was pleased that we scooped the coop for a reasonable sum. A local farmer brought it back for us in his trailer and then dropped off a couple of pullets for us yesterday. The coop is in the orchard in front of Barks, so visiting children will be able to collect eggs and catch hens. My 5 year old son is delighted by it all.

So to the business of marketing Barks self-catering holiday cottage now that we have welcomed our two chickens, and thinking up legitimate new straplines that might grab the search engines' attention:

Farm stays - self catering
Alton towers - dogs welcome - feed the hens
Stay on a farm with 2 chickens, 10 sheep, 3 dogs and some fruit trees.
I'll keep working on this . . .