Humpty Dumpty Words

‘When I use a word,’ Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, ‘it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.’ Through the Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll

It may be just me becoming a bit of a grouch, but I’m becoming increasingly irritated with the practice of subverting words in public discourse to disparage something or someone that the speaker doesn’t approve of, or elevate something that they do. BBC commentators are particularly adept at it, but the print media and the blogosphere are just as guilty. And of course vested interests latch on and exploit it like anything.
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When animal cruelty propaganda is harmful

A bit of a serious posting, this one. I’ve been burbling on about chickens for months now, ever since we decided to get them. But it wasn’t a trivial decision. I’ve never kept animals, as a child or as an adult. I had neither the time nor the inclination.

So I’m immensely aware of our obligation to treat our livestock properly and humanely. We’ve read as widely as we can, attended courses and lectures, and talked to experienced poultry keepers. We’re also acutely aware of the unpleasant practices of the poultry industry, and the impact that the laws and regulations intended for commercial farms have on domestic chicken keepers, not always for the better.

Before going on, here’s a picture of real and commonplace animal cruelty, taken at a French street market just before Christmas.

Turkeys at Desvres market, Christmas 2011

Spot the problem? No, neither did I at the time. More later in the post.
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Grandpa’s Feeder

We had a lot of trouble trying to introduce the chickens to a treadle feeder. The one that we first bought was a cheapy – around £40. The idea of a treadle feeder is that it keeps the food clean and dry, and doesn’t present a temptation to vermin, while still making the food instantly available to the chickens.

You can see it in the picture below.


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We went to the Fed

aka the National Federation of Poultry Clubs Championship Show. I know that we’d only recently been to the National Show, but we were keen to further our knowledge, and the Fed is if anything even larger than the National.

And another jolly nice day it was. It was very similar to the National, about which I’ve recently written, so this entry is more of a story in pictures …

The entrance to the show, not yet busy as we arrived


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Towards an ever looser union

There are so many important things to blog about. Cake, chickens, and shooting, for instance. But the big topic of the moment is Europe and the UK veto of the latest treaty change.

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The National Poultry Show

The end of November normally marks a visit to the NEC for the Motorcycle Show, but this year we went to the National Poultry Show instead, because of our new interest in chickens.

What a super day out. We arrived in time for the opening at 10am, and didn’t leave until chucking out time at 5pm. This could easily become a diary fixture.
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Caraway & Orange Cake Disaster

I’m not normally an envious sort of chap, but I would very much like to have as good a cake baking ability as my sister. Her cakes and pastries are in the award-winning category, light, with a uniform crumb, and delicious. Last time we saw her, we were treated to a slice of lemon drizzle cake, and I determined to have a go at one myself.

And, although I say it, it wasn’t too bad. It was a long way from being perfect, but it was OK. And so, emboldened by my limited success, I tried a simple recipe from River Cottage Baking, contained in a little booklet of sample recipes given away by the Telegraph last weekend.

Disaster. Do you really want to see a picture?
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Extending the boundary

We’ve swapped the chickens’ free range area from the pumpkin bed to an area under the fruit trees.


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King James Bible

We’ve now done our King James Version 400th anniversary Bible readings. It was more fun than we’d imagined. Wednesday was the better day, because the weather was fine and we got a fair few visitors. Here’s Jean getting stuck in to Jeremiah Chapter 51:


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Meat chickens training course

We went on a course today. The title says it all, really. “Kill, Pluck, Gut, and Bone”.

If we’re going to breed our own chickens next year, then all the boys and some of the girls will be destined for the freezer. Ixworths are, after all, dual purpose birds, and the meat is reputedly delicious. But if we’re going to raise birds for the table, then we need to be able to cull them humanely and efficiently.
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