The Bliss of life on a smallholding

Kentucky in the middle of his moult

Life on a farm or smallholding is certainly exciting and out-of-the-ordinary, to say the least. The thrill of having a big tract of land at one’s disposal conjures up images of green fields, herds of cows, goats, sheep or whatever and neat, tidy and sturdy fences keeping everybody organised and in their place, sheds for lots of storage and the farm cat lazily strolling around on the look-out for those pesky rodents. The (old) tractor and trailer is loading and moving bales of food and the sprinklers are gently wetting the earth and getting everything to grow, grow, grow into MONEY!
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For the lady of the farm, there are images of a rambling, yet comfortable, old farmhouse with chimneys and wrap-around porches, rolling green lawns and a herb garden close to the kitchen. Home-made butter, full cream Jersey milk, home-made bread and fresh garden vegetables are first on the list of things to do.
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And of course, there have to be chickens (for Sunday lunch – except we can’t slaughter Kentucky, the rooster, because he’s such a character, or his wife Hendrina, because she’s so sweet, or Betsy and Babs because they're best friends...) and eggs for breakfast, to go with the home-made bread. You might have a couple of pigs (for the bacon – just not Miss Piggy because we reared her with a bottle) and then the kids want some rabbits, because there will be lots of carrots to feed them.

So now the vegetable garden has become a priority (after all the pens for chickens, pigs, rabbits, goats and sheep have been erected). And after all the beds have been properly prepared, fertilized and planted, at great expense, the first seedlings start showing their heads. Your next priority is a scarecrow or SOMETHING to keep away all the birds destroying the seedlings (after you have put up bird feeders all over the garden to attract garden birds!).
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The vegetables are ready to be harvested and suddenly you find that EVERYTHING is ready at the same time! You now have 20 bags of cabbages, thousands of carrots (the rabbits can’t keep up! even though the original two have now become 11), enough beetroot for several restaurants (a business opportunity?), every shelf and drawer of the refrigerator is packed with tomatoes and you have enough green beans and peas for six months. And family and friends can’t understand why they have to pay for “free” vegetables from your own garden!
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You also have so much milk and butter and cream now, that you decide this is definitely worth the trouble of selling it. You spend your mornings in the ‘bakkie’ (pick-up) delivering milk (which has to be in an utterly bacteria-free bottle otherwise it goes sour within a couple of hours, so you spent the whole of last night sterilizing bottles and getting up early was a nightmare) … and there’s still so much to do when you get back … The chickens and rabbits have to be fed (and there’s a hole in the fence so the rabbits are all in the vegetable garden), the milk from the cows that were milked at dawn has to be de-creamed (for the butter), the butter has to be made and bottles sterilised once again – and some of the neighbours never left their bottles out, so you actually have to rush to town as well to buy a dozen more. And the local market where you established a contact for selling some of your vegetables expects their delivery before 7.30am. You suddenly remember that you also have to be back in time for the truck collecting the pigs you sold because everybody at home suddenly had an aversion to bacon and besides, nobody wanted the job of cleaning the pig sties … besides, the tractor broke down last week, so the trailer couldn’t be loaded with all the muck to be taken away – will have to wait a while now …


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You’re sitting on your wrap-around porch, exhausted, having a well-deserved cup of tea, admiring your green fields and neat fences and your heart swells with pride and gratitude – this is ALL YOURS! No matter all the hard work and early mornings – you now have a steady income from the vegetable garden, which has grown to three times its size, and the milk and butter, and the kids are enjoying the new pony enormously. You have learnt what to cut down on (like rabbits, for instance) and everybody has fallen into a comfortable routine, knowing exactly what needs to be done when.
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Your thoughts stray to a new idea – how about a strawberry patch? Surely there’s a big market for strawberries – and mushrooms, maybe …?
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“Whatever you put your attention on gets energy from you and grows.”
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Here comes the rain...

Here comes the rain 

 Falling on my head like a memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion
I want to walk in the open wind
I want to talk like lovers do
I want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you?

 Photo credit : Unknown

It's Friday the 13th!

The life of our Planet...

... Planet Earth will not be able to exist longer than four years without them...

Guide to bees

Most of us have been there, sitting in a park or on our porch, enjoying the beautiful summer day and a refreshing cold drink, when suddenly an unidentified flying bugger approaches. Is it a bee? Is it a wasp? We’re just not sure!

So here's that long-awaited comprehensive guide to all those yellow stripey things!

P.S.: Please note, the Honey Bee can only sting once, after which it dies. So please be careful and try not to get stung, you will be saving someone's life! 

Peace and love...

Photo by Joe Neely 

Did you know that bees sleep between five and eight hours a day, sometimes in flowers? Also, they like to sleep with other bees and hold each other’s feet.  😍

She taught me to yodel! 🎶🎵🎵🎶🎶🎵🎵

This is the effect my singing had on Snoodles, my pet hen! I was softly crooning to her (or so I thought!) and her response was opening her mouth wide and letting out the most ear-piercing, awful squawk! Luckily I had my camera at the ready but I’ve decided I’ll keep my singing to the shower!

Aaaaah, how I miss my Snoodles…

What a wonderful find! - Hawk Moth Caterpillar

Hawk moth caterpillar in a pot of Arum Lilies, now stripped of their leaves - Pic taken in my daughter's garden in Ballito, KwaZulu Natal, South Africa

This is the caterpillar of the Hawk moth, (family Sphingidae), also called sphinx moth or hummingbird moth, sitting on the left-over stalk of an Arum Lily. Butterflies and moths, as innocent as they appear, have a definite sting in the tail. To enjoy their intricate colours, their delicate dips and swings across the sun-kissed garden and their evening hovering among scented blooms, we have to live with their myriad off-spring which chomp, chew and generally deface our carefully tended plants, shrubs and trees.

Silver-striped Hawk moth (pic from "Butterfly conservation")

One of the most voracious of these is the caterpillar of the Hawk Moth, which can strip a plant of all its leaves in a matter of days. The Arum lily is one of the host plants for Hippotion celerio, commonly known as the Silver-striped Hawk Moth or Grape Vine Hawk Moth. This is an exceptionally handsome, neat looking moth with a wingspan of 76 mm and longitudinal pale brown and olive-brown stripes along the body and wings. The Arum lily is one of the host plants for this moth. These moths are widespread and abundant in Africa, breeding along the North and East coast and subsequently colonising southern Europe.

Hawk moth caterpillar in a pot of Arum Lilies, now stripped of their leaves - Pic taken in my daughter's garden in Ballito, KwaZulu Natal, South Africa.

This resident moth flashes reddish-brown patches on under-wings if disturbed. The wings can sometimes have a pinkish/purplish tinge. Adult, with a wingspan of 6.5 - 9cm, can be seen flying between May and early August.

Hawk Moth caterpillars are medium to large in size, with stout bodies and five pairs of legs. Usually the hawk moth caterpillars’ bodies lack any hairs (he/she was beautifully smooth to the touch!, and most species have a ‘horn’ at the posterior end (seen in the top photograph). Many are greens and browns, and have counter-shading patterns that help to conceal them. 

Female hawk moths lay translucent greenish, flattened, smooth eggs about the size of a tomato pip. These are usually laid singly on host plants and take between 3 to 21 days to develop. Most species are capable of producing several generations each year if weather conditions suitable.

The eggs hatch out into pale green caterpillars about a centimeter long. They hide under the leaves during the day but eat ravenously and grow at an alarming rate at night. As they grow their colour darkens darkens slightly and they lie along the upper stem of the arum where they blend perfectly.

A week or so later the teeny, cute little green caterpillar will be  staunch 7 or 8 centimeters long, turn brown and descend to the base of the plant where once again it will blend perfectly with its surroundings. Here it may spend the day in hiding, creeping up during the night to continue its depredations.

Next morning - Hawk moth caterpillar resting on the edge of the plant pot

The damage to the arum lilies was the loss of their leaves which admittedly hindered their growth but they recover. To save your Arums, visit them regularly and check for eaten leaves and along the stems, where you will find the culprits.

Before you go on the rampage, consider the results of your actions.

So now it's up to you. You may decide to pick off and destroy both the eggs and the caterpillars, but bear the results of this action in mind: birds will find less food in your garden and may leave to find food elsewhere, night blooming flowers will not be pollinated and bats will be deprived of a protein packed 'snack on the wing'.

Although appearing delicate, the eggs are surprisingly strong and difficult to crush.

This Pic from Kumbulu Nursery

I'm missing my Nature Journal...

I'm really missing "my" Nature ... I'm missing my old garden and "my" birds and all the little mammals and insects I used to interact with. I miss my wildlife pond, I miss my potting shed and I miss digging and getting my hands dirty in the soil. I miss my early-morning walks in "my" bluegum bush and I miss identifying the various weeds I used to see coming up among the rolling fields of Eragrostis (Weeping love grass). I miss Mollie ("my" resident Mole Snake in my garden) and I miss the flocks of Guinea fowl and unexpectedly coming upon Hedgehogs and tortoises passing through our property.

I miss my various "useless" collections like feathers, terracotta pots, my succulent and cactus collection, twigs and leaves, seeds, fallen birds' nests, various droppings from little buck passing by (yes, I used to collect their droppings!), stones, pebbles and rocks, small rodent and reptile skeletons I used to find on my walks and I dearly miss my Chooks - Snoodles, Kiep, Chi-Chi, Kentucky, Micky, Missy and Mr. Brown. The only chickens I have seen in 18 months are those when we had coffee at Burnedale Farm and Restaurant here in Ballito when we went there for breakfast.

And I hear you you asking, so why don't you collect and dig in the soil and discover new things on your early-morning walks? The answer is simple - I have not had a garden for the past 18 months (luckily that is soon to change) and I've spent my time exploring vistas like the ones above and below.

I'm slowly starting to identify with the trees and plants of the coast, like the beautiful Fever Trees (Vallechia xanthaphloe, above, one of the beloved thorn Trees I never managed to get growing in my previous garden because it was too cold, this is decidedly a coastal and hot climate tree.

I have also managed to establish a new little succulent collection and some of them will find a home in the ground in our new place we are moving to. And in the pipeline is a whole new collection of terracotta pots!

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Hadeda Ibis - Bostrychia hagedash

The Hadeda is famous for being South Africa’s natural alarm clock. I'm sure everybody will agree with that. When we lived in Gauteng on our smallholding, we rarely saw any Hadedas, so the excitement was great when they did appear. Here in Ballito, KwaZulu Natal, it's a totally different story - their numbers seem to be on a par (to me at least) to that of the Indian Mynah and the Red-winged Starling. 

And I am utterly thrilled to be seeing them in such abundance! And I just absolutely LOVE their call, but must admit that I prefer to be woken up by the Burchell's Cuckoo soothing call and not the hart-stopping call of the Hadeda at 4am in the morning!

Usually at 4.30am !!

 

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Pest, charming oddity or just background noise, the Hadeda ibis is a feathered phenomenon in suburban South Africa. Its feathers are a drab gray or brown, so it's not on a bird lover bucket list. But the bird now has a small niche in popular culture. Somelodges and restaurants carry its name, a website offers a ringtone download of its cry and a pair of South African musicians produced a song called: "Harry the hungry Hadeda." Some call it a "flying vuvuzela," recalling the din of the plastic horn used by stadium fans during the World Cup soccer tournament in South Africa in 2010.

 

The Hadeda or Hadeda Ibis,is an ibis found in Sub-Saharan Africa. . It is named for its loud three to four note calls uttered in flight especially in the mornings and evenings when they fly out or return to their roost trees. While Hadeda Ibis (Bostrychia hagedash) is not a conservation listed species, it is protected under provincial regs. Hadeda Ibis is protected in all but one province, namely KZN. The species is threatened, though, by extended droughts which reduce food availability by causing damp soil to harden, making it more difficult to probe for insects. The population in South Africa also declined markedly at the turn of the century due to hunting during the colonial expansion.

The Hadeda Ibis is monogamous and breeds in solitary pairs, unlike other ibis species. They breed from July to January in South Africa. They lay 1 to 5 eggs which are incubated by both parents. Incubation lasts up to 28 days. Young are independent at about 40 days.
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  Males display before choosing a mate. The pair then engages in mutual bowing and display preening.  

The Hadeda Ibis is a social bird usually seen in pairs or in small groups of between 5 and 30 birds, and seldom as a single individual. Occasionally it can form flocks of some 50-200 individuals. They feeds on insects, millipedes and earthworms, using their long scimitar-like bill to probe soft soil. It also eats larger insects, such as the Parktown prawn, as well as spiders and small lizards. Sometimes it swipes dog food meant for pets, splatters parked cars and driveways with droppings and yanks residents from sleep with jarring squawks at first light.

Some ornithologists credit the Hadeda's dietary preferences with curbing the population of the "Parktown Prawn," a king cricket (Libanasidus vittatus) named after a Johannesburg suburb that can creep or leap into homes at night, horrifying residents. The Hadeda, in turn, has few natural predators in cities, facing instead the lesser peril of flying into windows or getting hit by a car.  Although totally harmless, the insects can jump actively and often eject offensive black fecal liquids when threatened. Accordingly, they frighten nervous persons and they may chew carpets and fabrics. 

You may love 'em or hate 'em, but this striking African bird is surrounded by many ancient legends and myths. One myth tells of how the northern bald ibis, Geronticus eremita, a symbol of fertility in some regions of Turkey, was one of the first birds that Noah released from the Ark.

As a lexophile (logophile?), I was pleased to learn that the plural of ibis is not "ibises" as most people would guess it to be, but instead, the plural is either ibes or even more interesting; ibides.