Life and Death, part 2 - Cockerels

Well, actually just the death bit here I'm afraid, but feel I need to write about it. You might not want to read this if squeamish; or veggie/vegan. But at least, I hope, it's an immediate, honest account of part of life.

Four cockerels had to go - we've got one left to do the business, and apart from their increased fighting, it's just not sustainable to have them as gobbling pets. That's how it is keeping farm animals - the boys don't have such a long life. Still, they had some life which is a good thing I suppose... And they had space and good food, and sea air.. and very wet clay right now. I'm not quite as virgin to farming as this slightly tortured stream of consciousness might make it seem; but being the cause of death is new to me, and cleaning buckets of blood makes the meaning of meat that bit more real.

So yesterday we separated four cocks, and didn't feed them for 24 hours. And today after dark we picked them up by their feet, one by one, and took them, in quiet shock, to the pole barn to be killed. We tied them upside down to an upright, and dispatched them with a dispatcher. What a horrible term - clinical, efficient, to the point - but actually that's what needed. No messing about - break the neck, go with the reflex flapping of wings, and then cut the throat to let the blood drain out.

Tim did the first three, me watching closely. I did the last. I could feel the sort of plier ends of the dispatcher come together cleanly; thankfully there was no struggle, no horrible botch. It was ok. I struggled to cut the neck though, and although I knew he was dead, it still felt gory, messy, revolting repeatedly slashing against a tough little tube lacking any equal reaction. Thankfully Philippe was on hand, and suggested going in through beak, which allowed a clean cut. Amazing how red the blood is, and how quickly it coagulates. And praise be for shock - just the act of carrying them, combined with the dopiness of dusk, meant that they were remarkably calm going into it all, despite some obvious awareness as they were brought in.

It was actually the plucking that affected me more, holding the carcass, warm as my hands touched more skin. Five of us did this, in the haybarn next door: initially quiet, respectful, grave; but chatting more about that and this as we developed rhythm and confidence plucking the feathers, and as a natural response to the macabre event and equally macabre cold evening of this November floodtime. We chopped the heads and legs off, Tim blowtorched the strange hairs off, we washed out the horrible buckets, and that was it, done.

Coqs au vin to come sometime, using all the meat as fully as possible; the appropriate follow up to a necessary reality I think. I might not sleep like an angelic log but, as a recently revived carnivore and lifelong eggivore, I am glad I was able to be involved and have a little more conscious connection to it all.

Lovely Clovely Clovelly ~ Herring Festival

Well, another splendid day. Started off with great excitement as I put on something half sporty for the first time in far too long to take to the high seas with Boscastle & Crackington Gig Club! For years I've enviously watched crews rowing these gorgeous old pilot boats, and thought that's way cooler and more hardcore than anything you can do on a river. Beautiful sunny morning, no winds, seemed ideal for it. Sadly when I got there, the waves were still too rough to get out of Boscastle harbour safely, and this crew knows not to mess with nature - not only did they live through famous flooding and destruction several years ago (the club being founded in its aftermath as a brilliant way to help community rebuilding), they also capsized and badly damaged their boat earlier this year. Thankfully just managed to patch her up in time to take part in the rather more genteel jubilee pageant.. So, no outing this morn (and possibly not till Spring now, boohoo); but good to get to know members over a consolation breakfast in the harbour caf, and hear great tales of epic voyages and famous victories over south coast crews (despite their increased ability to get out and train!)

Dry verandah and trainers -
not v representative of the farm!

So, back to a Sunday community work day - ahem - morning. Marie and Ash making mountains of loaves; the rest of us moving chicken hutches and planning larger spaces for a brood, and tackling the big barn's accumulation of Stuff in preparation for the imminent move-in of the pigs for winter farrowing. 

Hearty lunch prepared by James, and then some of us off on a jolly to Clovelly - how could we resist the strange pull of a Herring Festival up the coast?? I really like the fact that as a community we have a healthy mix of doing our own things, working and eating together often, and going out together sometimes - sharing cars and in this case 'looking after' poorly Clare's kids, Charlotte and Ollie. Anyway, enough words... Will let the photos do the talking. 

In a landi taxi down to Clovelly - didn't really
like the path being closed off; but hey, fun ride

And there you are!
Boat building & flax demos on the beach

Photographer's heaven
(I was thinking the place, rather than Olly neccessarily)

Not a bad venue for your market stall..

Some genius magicians

Lovin it

Tall fisher folk round ere

And this bloke

What it's all about. Apparently the one place on this stretch they 
could build something like a habitable port village into the cliffs. Amazing results...

Proper balconies

Am sure there's a caption for this.. please feel free to suggest..

Ditto!

Another amazing accident, unfortunately
Mr Dogfish not as alive as Clovelly

Or maybe tossed overboard? 

Caption??

Sea Shanties

'Kipperman' and his acclaimed History of the Herring

Not a bad front door..

..or view

Hand drawn cart still only way of transport for
most of the bottom bit of the village...

..and foot and sacks for the upper parts...

..and the ubiquitous hand drawn sledges!!

Old Sea Dog in the New Inn
and His Amazing Dog Fish Egg

 ..considering whether he
should dissect or try to hatch it

Looking at photos of the waterfall idiots

And an underage conga eel we managed to sneak into the pub..
Taking a cheeky peek out of his sack

And back home, a new challenge for masterchef

Sorry to any veggies/vegans out there. But at least this unintentional
catch was sold on a herring stall. And we got all our £7's worth!

And the rather delicious and tender reason for the season

Alongside some of our bakers' produce from the morn..
Hungry?

Woodland, sea and stars!

Beautiful day, like the first day of summer. So what better to kick it off than a spot of late autumnal activity.. 

We're extremely lucky to have 2 acres of beautiful old woodland at the bottom of the farm, but with all the other farm / housing / development jobs to be done, Trelay's woodland has become a bit neglected recently. However, there's a lot of enthusiasm to start managing it again: to use this resource to extract as much fuel as we sustainably can for our many woodburners, whilst also being conservation minded and facilitate good habitat for various plant / insect / bird species (as well as even the large herd of red deer!), and simply being a wonderfully peaceful and inspiring place to hang out. In my ignorant naivete, but conscious ignorance, determination and enthusiasm, I've volunteered to be convenor for woods and hedgerows, alongside the much more knowledgable and practical James! We had our first meeting the other day, basic minutes of which here, showing the huge amount to be done, but also the willingness of people to get stuck into yet another aspect of the place..

So, after a big Trelay bacon and egg community breakfast, we made a good start today coppicing some hazel at the top of the woods:

To the woods! With bow saws, loppers, billhooks etc

Marie gives a briefing

Ash with small straights for hurdles?

And bigger ones for tool shafts?

Roger has a quick rest

..whilst Alan is unstoppable

James attacks ivy, Olly plans the log stack,
and Flo's just happy after hopelessly chasing rabbits

Beginnings of a stack for next year

Blue sky, blue sea, happy pigs, happy me

Quick lunch, nip into town for bigger timber for office stud walls (more on that another time), and other bits and pieces; and then I caught up with others already pulled down to Crackington to make the most of the ever sunnier day. First time in the sea since we've moved here! Silly high tide waves kind of warming in their tumbling power; but despite that and new wetsuit, not quite hardcore Cornish yet to stay in long.. Unlike the dudes I I found with wet hair and well deserved hot chocs after about half an hour in the November Atlantic.. 

And then... back with Marie to the cabin to cook for James, Ash and Ollie. Later on we noticed the sky was clear and truly awesome (it's not just the rad waves that make me say that) - I don't remember ever seeing the Milky Way quite so huge and milky. So we took advantage of not having any holiday makers in the yurts at the moment to have a last glass or two of wine down there, with the warmth of a log burning fire.. Good day!