Ginger – Garden Gate Flowers

This week we have managed to get our hands on an advance copy of “Bark” the latest instalment detailing the life of Mr Long: Badger, to his peers, or the Duke of Midlife, to his vassals and many humble fans. The Duke has been busy these past few months putting together memories of his first years in the Midlife Garden, or the Firm, as he likes to call it.

Badger has been reminiscing on the events of the last couple of years, how he has brought joy and love to people’s hearts and been the one true star of the Midlife Garden Family. But it has not all be plain sailing for the rugged little soldier. He recalls how he brutally lost his mother at such a young age (well, we bought him) and how that has affected him. How the fact that his parents were of differing cultural backgrounds has affected his outlook on life and how he has always suffered bigotry and prejudice at the paws of the middle class dogs in the village. It explains his vehement dislike of the golden Labrador puppy down the lane, but does not excuse his attempts to rip the throat out of the big black Newfoundland at the other end of the village. We put that down to Small Dog Syndrome.

Badger Boy seems happy to share his most intimate secrets, such as the day he lost his virginity. He says it was a “humiliating” experience, during which the“bitch” treated him “like a young stallion”. But underlying the questions over his prowess, were the muttered questions from some sources, about how dark the offspring from his union with the sexy blonde might have been.

Badger relates his early experimentation with drugs, describing the first time he took Drontal, which led to a night of hallucinations and hysteria which only ended when a member of the household staff took him on a long trek in the early hours to bring him down. This did not reduce his appetite for illicit substances. On another occasion he nearly OD’ed on chorizo and mozzarella balls from an unguarded coffee table. This led to a night of hallucinations and hysteria which only ended when a member of the household staff took him on a long trek in the early hours to calm him down.

Other contentious claims in the book revolve around Badger’s assertion that while out on patrol around the village he has sought out and destroyed up to 25 squirrels, a claim that is as unverifiable as it is unbelievable.

The good news is that Badger is very happy now. He has found peace and love with Carrot – who is always there for him and who does not look on him as inferior in anway, but simply bleats and squeaks at his command.

Badger has come to accept that he has not always been the most patient and empathetic member of the family but puts a lot of these feelings down to the insecurity of being ‘The Spare’, behind Ella who is the favourite, the chosen one, the heir. The pair of them have been through some tough times together and while one might hope their bond would gradually strengthen, Badger’s relationship with Carrot and the treatment of Carrot by other members of The Firm have led to tensions. It all came to a head one day in the garden when tempers rose over a string of sausages. Badger had to take himself off around the grounds – repeatedly – to calm down and although Ella became openly aggressive towards the put-upon junior at least no dog bowls were broken in the fracas.

It is clear that Badger feels belittled by those who see him as no longer a working member of the Midlife Garden, but the question remains as to what he did if he ever was a working member. What exactly does a working member do apart form wag his tail and make people go “ahhhhhh”? Still, the title is important and so Badger remains a part of The Firm, albeit often apart – when out on walks and chasing imaginary deer. He claims that no one else does so much to guard the territory and reputation of the Midlife Garden – if sheer volume and persistence of verbal and non-verbal communication is the gauge.

Despite this, Badger still alternates between periods of debilitating lethargy and terrifying barking attacks, but Carrot has been there to calm him and massage his ego. The relationship between a Carrot and a Dual heritage Dapple Dachs has been the subject of many scurrilous rumours and falsehoods, but if there is one thing to take from “Bark” it is the conclusion that they make each other very happy and for that we should be pleased.

Just don’t keep yapping on about it, OK?

The Dachs and the Carrot — The Dachshund and the Carrot

I came home yesterday afternoon to discover that Gilbert and George had been naughty. Their water trough (well more of a basin) had been wrenched off the post on which it had been secured for a couple of years now, and the water had been pouring across their enclosure for most of the day.

Who are Gilbert and George you might ask. Well, they are two Tamworth / Oxford Sandy and Black cross pigs. Brothers, they are affectionately referred to as the ginger pigs. They are the latest set of weaners that we have raised. We started with a pair of Saddleback sows, then some Sandy and Blacks, a couple of sets of Berkshires and now these two, who came from Tim and Judith down the road. Gilbert and George’s predecessors on our patch have all been despatched in their time. But now the chest freezer is beginning to look a little empty, more pork is required for our winter store.

Keeping pigs, you can begin to see why people say that they make great pets. They are characterful creatures that are smart and inquisitive with distinct differences between the breeds. The Saddlebacks were docile and friendly while the Sandy and Blacks were more sparky. The Berkshires were also very amenable. But now we have the progeny of a Sandy and Black sow and a Tamworth boar. And these boys are very different.

One obvious difference is in gender – boys together seem to make for more rough and tumble. It is something about two young males in a family (be it pig or human) that leads to a higher degree of friction and general boisterousness. These two are no different. Plus they are red heads. I will say no more on the subject – I have some good friends of burnt auburn colouring, so won’t dwell on the subject, but there is a kind of Celtic edge to their demeanour. So these guys are noisy and rumbustuous lads who seem to be intent on getting hold of anything they can find and testing its physical strengths to the limit. During their stay I have found bits of wiring and a plate that they have somehow dragged in through the stock fencing. They have an ability to move large stones and even the Belfast sinks that had previously be used for feed – all shoved around with their snouts.

KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA — Putting the snout to good use

Pigs’ snouts are remarkable things. They are part bulldozer, part perfumier’s sensitive olfactory organ to sniff out stuff underground. It is fascinating to see them rootling away through soft turf, just ploughing up the ground with their nose. Even more impressive when the ground is hard. I would like to think that the deconstruction of the water trough was a scheme on their part to provide damp conditions to snuffle and wallow to beat the hot weather. I am not sure that they are that intelligent – but then who knows? Images of Animal Farm spring to mind.

That said, these pigs are much less interested in wallowing than their predecessors – mostly sows – who would love a good slouch around in a muddy hollow, specially provided by our own “Pig Whisperer” Josh. Those sows loved to just cool their bits off in a muddy hollow, then chase Josh around the pen to say thank you. These two boys are somewhat less confident with us, though they are betting better. One is very much the runt, but the larger (Gilbert?) is more confident, though he squeals like a, well, a stuck pig, when you touch him.

So, mending the water feeder was going to be interesting. It turned out the damage had first been discovered by The Old Man who had somehow turned it upside down to stop the water escaping. Gilbert and George saw this as just another variation on the game so that the water was once again flowing freely (or expensively if it is your water meter in question) by the time Verity came home from school and tried to right it once again. So TOM had had plenty of time to work out a solution to the problem.

Now, either I am becoming more astute and practical in my thinking, or else genetics are taking their toll on me, because the idea I had in my head to sort this issue was exactly the same as that proposed by my father. The only difference being the size of the post onto which we would secure the drinker. My idea involved a smaller, less industrial sized anchor. While I was thinking stake, he was thinking telegraph pole. If my father had his way, the drinker would be able to withstand the predations of an African Bull Elephant.

So Jim and I stood waiting alongside the damage while his lordship walked back to the house to get the drill. We agreed that while we could do this ourselves, there was no doubt that we would probably do it wrong. So, supervised by the Lord of the Manor, we hammered, drilled and screwed to the satisfaction of all. Help was at hand from the ginger boys who subtly dragged the sledgehammer into the bottom of the muddy puddle along with the pliers and a screw driver.

So the Ginger Whingers are watered again, and like the rest of the estate, basking in the warm sunshine.

Tag Archives: Ginger

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