More Turkey

 Wednesday December 29

That pie.....

I finished it to-day. Many years ago, I bought a Marks and Spencer Freezer Christmas cook book. A favourite recipe has always been Turkey, Ham and Almond Pie. You can tell, the page is spattered. The filling is a mixture of diced turkey and ham, halved seedless grapes and flaked almonds lightly browned in butter. The latter is then made into a sauce with the addition of flour, stock, and wine. When cool, mayonnaise is added to the sauce and then it's all mixed with the meat etc. 

Shorcrust pastry for the lining and the crust, I have a deep, 10 inch,  French flan ring, which is ideal.

 

It's good both hot and cold. Both photographs were taken by Pam.

 

Horsey

Monday December 27 

Maybe Horsey wasn't such a good idea. Even the back lanes to Sea Palling were busy with cars, and walkers plus dogs. The car parks at Palling beach were nearly full. The seal watching hordes at Horsey corner were out in force, even the overflow car park field was full, a further stream of cars turning in from the south.

With so much traffic about, it wasn't possible to stop and scan the fields until we got to the layby south of Horsey Mill. A few distant Pinkfeet, a shadow of the numbers usually seen in these fields in December. Peering hopefully through the murk and fine drizzle, a Cattle Egret rose from a hidden site, soon disappearing over the top of the bank.

A short stop at the Sea Palling/Ingham swan fields enabled a quick and inaccurate count of 17 Bewick Swans and a couple of Whoopers amongst the resident Mute Swans.

Further along, 14 Egyptian Geese, already paired up, kept a wary eye on us as they slowly but determinedly strode away.

 

They are well established breeders in Norfolk, yet these geese still breed early in the year, as they do in their native North Africa.

We enjoyed the outing, despite the conditions. It was good to be out and about.

Tuesday Dec 28

Pam has been dealing with the inevitable extra vegetables and cosumables left over from Christmas. I've prepared the filling for the turkey, ham and almond pie I shall finish tomorrow. 

The turkey and vegetable soup is simmering gently, waiting for the potatoes and leeks to be added later. 

I couldn't resist taking a photo of Pam in her apron, at the bottom of the garden, digging the leeks. 

 

Turkeys

Sunday December 26 

In the late 1940s, Mam raised a dozen turkeys every year.They arrived as day old chicks in a cardboard box with a hole pierced lid.  The delivery van brought them from a poultry farm in Kidwelly. The annual delivery of Black Sussex crosses, layer hen chicks, and a dozen Rhode Island Red cocks for the table came from there too.Not all at the same time.

The chicks were soon transferred to the inside of the fender which lay in front of the fire.

 

This is the closest photo I can find to our fireplace, post second world war. Our mantelpiece and surround was less cluttered and the fender classier - it was made by an engineer uncle.Our candlesticks - present in all welsh homes that I knew - now live on our mantelpiece.

The fender was lined with newspaper, a sideways on box at the end for sleeping birds. A saucer of water and another for chopped hard boiled egg food completed the preparation. There they stayed for about a week, when feathers would make their spiky appearance and they were deemed strong enough to move outside.

 

Free to download from the internet

 

Mam always reckoned that turkeys were much more difficult than hens. She was never content until they'd been raised past the torri cochi stage (breaking red - the growth of the combs and wattles). Without warning, one or more would die. 

Once the wattles had started forming, they were allowed out of their pen, on to the graig behind the house.  Our home backed onto the lower hillside of a narrow river valley. The top was wet alder carr.

Usually, the turkeys would not stray far, appearing at the back gate for food as night approached. Sometimes, they didn't. One night, they roosted at the very top of a large old Bramley apple tree. I remember being instructed to climb a ladder and push a bird onto the ground. I must have been small, as dad moved the ladder around the tree with me still standing on the top.

On another occasion, they went missing. Wearing dad's wellies, I climbed the graig, eventually finding the turkeys over half a mile away. It involved a narrow path around a copse, climbing to the Llwynbedw Farm track, past the pond, through  a gate into a very wet Alder carr. I had to wade into the bog to encourage them out. When it was time to follow them out, Dad's wellies were firmly stuck in the mud. I had to herd this unruly mob home in my socked feet, armed with a long stick to gently guide them when they strayed. I got them all back safely - I must have been about 10 years old at the time. I was worried about the abandoned wellies. Dad chuckled, and said that he'd fetch them the next day. Phew.

We were all relieved when another local took over raising Christmas turkeys and we could stop. The Christmas preparation was another major occurrence. My father's youngest brother, Gerald, was the slayer. He had a method of killing them by slitting something at the back of the throat which meant that it was easy to pluck them immediately after death. I never witnessed that, nor did my parents take part. Mam had the unenviable job of preparing them for the table - and the favoured recipients.

 I have seen wild turkeys.When driving through the gigantic King Ranch in Texas. It took a day to drive through. A family was  seen the other side of the roadside fence.They're on my list - Jon Dunn said that they were genuinely wild birds, sought by American birders.

Many Birds, Few Species

Tuesday December 22 

Rarely have we driven straight to Snettisham via Sedgefield - of Wagtail fame - without stopping to bird at favoured spots. That's what we did to-day. 

The near mud was virtually birdless, thousands of Pink-footed Geese and Knot darkened the edge of the receding tide. Oystercatchers formed a black and white, distant splodge, towards the yacht Clubhouse. Curlew, Dunlin, Redshank, Black-tailed Godwit and one Turnstone fed actively on the glistening mud left behind by the water.Groups of Teal, Mallard and Wigeon huddled together along the deeper creeks, Shelduck by the hundred, ubiquitous amongst the flocks.

Les Bunyon, assistant warden, was on duty again, acknowledging our legal presence with a friendly wave. The far pit had Greylag galore, a solitary Cormorant drying its wings in a horizontal pose reminiscent of the Angel of the North. Goldeneye have increased in number, I counted at least a dozen of these handsome winter visitors.

Now you see them, now you don't, two  Little Grebes constantly dived amidst the Mallard on the chalet pool. Only two cars at the chalet/caravan village to-day, empty for Christmas week, and probably the rest of the winter.

Hunstanton cliffs to eat our Lidl bought lunch, pizza rounds and an apple puff, was interrupted by a powered hang glider passing close by. It returned, we both scrambled for our cameras. The nearest thing we could get to flying I think. I forgot to check the horizon!

 

The pilot waved as he passed by. Very Jules Vernesque.

 

 

 

Memorable was the sheer numbers of flying Pink-feet skeins throughout the day, and unusually large flocks of Lapwings at Snettisham, Wells, and Holkham.

No more moth trapping until the next warmer spell. We are still catching Winter and December Moths and, this morning, a splendid Mottled Umber, all singly or in low numbers. The back lawn grass was white until mid morning as I write this on Wednesday.

The Omicron variant of Covid is keeping us isolated again, no more social gatherings for a while. Constantly surprised by the kindness and generosity of friends, Kate and Sam both made us a small Christmas Cake. 

 

This morning, Peter, a new neighbour, arrived with boxes containing Sausage Rolls, four iced cup cakes, shortbread biscuits and Cheese Straws. All made by his wife Joan.They moved into Viv and Roy's bungalow earlier this year.

 

 

The Silent Village

Friday December 17

The last time I did an internet search for the film 'Silent Village' , I found a few mentions. Recently, I was reminded of it, and searched again. I not only found the following short synopsis, but a link to the film itself.

A Welsh village and its people are used to dramatise the lives of the people of Lidice, showing their way of life before, and their fate after, the Nazi invasion of Czechoslovakia.

The Nazis' massacre of over 170 men in a Czech mining village prompted a swift response from sympathetic Welsh miners. They were pivotal in creating The Silent Village, a tribute to the devastated community of Lidice. The film suggests that the slaying could have happened in any similar village, and stages a bold re-enactment of the Czech events in Cwmgiedd, south Wales. (My village of birth)

Humphrey Jennings discussed the project in nearby Ystradgynlais just two months after the killings, gaining the co-operation of local pitmen, South Wales Miners' Federation president Arthur Horner, and miners' agent Dai Dan Evans. Evans stresses on-screen the indomitability of miners and Lidice's impact in uniting pit communities.

The drama-doc, made for the Ministry of Information at the behest of Czech officials and freedom campaigners, dramatises events simply, as record. 

All the participants in the film are actual people who lived in Cwmgiedd at the time.No actors were involved.

I last saw the film at one of Yorath Methodist Church's Sunday School Christmas treats.The only memory I have of the filming,  as a five year old me, is of peeping out through the side of the blackout blinds and seeing a row of people lined up against the graveyard walls, singing. Hywel Powell, the popular shopkeeper,  in his big white apron that he wore in the shop stood out. He was a great story-teller to us kids, a favourite being the one of the tomcat with its head caught in a salmon tin, complete with sound effects. 

 

 

Yorath chapel at the top plus cemetery wall. My home is beyond the second gate on the right.

 My childhood best friend, Olwen, and her family, features in the film. Her dad, Phil Gof (Phil the blacksmith) was the local smith. A scene shows the family around a tin bath, where the youngest, Beth, was being bathed. I make a fleeting appearnce towards the end of the film, skipping across the playground of Cynlais Primary School, ringlets flying. Blink and you miss it.

The 35 minute film can be viewed on:

https://player.bfi.org.uk/free/film/watch-the-silent-village-1943-online 

Random Wanderings

 Tuesday December 14

Yet another unheralded road closure delayed our drive to Natural Surroundings. 'Road Closed' notices appeared a hundred metres before the entrance to Bayfield Hall where NS is found. We reversed to the Hall's back entrance, where we had to give way to Anne Harrop, also reversing - she's co-leasee of NS. Then Richard appeared. We all returned to Holt, then Wiveton and the coast road. The pretty way.

After a convivial chat and a drink at NS, we drove to Morston, a favourite of Pam's. Back to its winter best. No cars, no crowds, no dogs. The creek was a trickle, it must have been  a very low tide. More water in the upper reaches. There is a Greenshank in this photo.

 

 

 Not many birds about. A  Rock Pipit kept watch from a broken jetty post.

A Herring Gull dabbled its feet in the mud whilst calling loudly. A sound which is reminiscent of stormy days in Swansea, when gulls followed the Tawe, and then our village river, the Giedd, looking for food. 

 

 

The always looked for Greenshank was too far for photography, good in the scope. I love this elegant wader, Marsh Sandpiper even more. Curlew being on the red list now is an uncomfortable truth. Helpless to do anything about it personally, hoping that those who can, will.

An abortive search through the Brent Goose flock in Cley Eye Field for a Black Brant, completed the day's birding.

December 13

We paid a mid afternoon visit to Winterton on Monday. A few Pinkfeet, Greylag and Lapwings in the Horsey area. Hundreds of Starlings polka dotted the fields, busy digging for their supper.

The dunes car park has been handed over to the Friends of Horsey Seals. One of their members was on collection bucket duty at the kiosk. There to explain, and to warn against going anywhere near the edge, which is even more eroded.

The only birds we saw, apart from a single fly past Scoter,  were Cormorants and gulls, in attendance to the pupping Seals. The whiter the pups, the younger they are. Mothers were ever vigilant, keeping the testosterone aggressive, and clumsy,  males away from their young. Whilst, at the same time, accepting their advances and leading the males away to a safe distance.

 The gulls are there to feed on the protein rich afterbirths, which sees them through the winter, strengthening them for the next breeding season.

The latter was one of the facts told to us on the way out, by the bucket man . There are now 2, 800 seals from here to Horsey, they're spreading south as numbers rise. There is a 5% death rate amongst the young. Deserted by their mothers, injured by bull seals rolling on them, bitten by dogs, some of the reasons. The sanctuary at East Winch has a special rescue ambulance to take the sick and injured in for treatment.

Best of all, a quarter of a mile before home, a male Hen Harrier flew across in front of us, hard to see at first against the orange fireball of the low, setting sun. Beautiful birds.

All Lit Up

Saturday December 11 

When we were at work and had a 'real', live Christmas tree, it was never put up and decorated until the weekend before Christmas.These days, it's the nearest to December 1st that Adrian is due. He brings it in from the garage and puts the lights on. Being tall helps. Pam decorated it.

 

 After many years of looking for something vaguely authentic, I found this nativity scene at a garden centre - not Oberammergau's Christmas market.

 

Baby Jesus is waiting behind the curtain. The Three Wise Men are on the nearby shelf, still riding their camels. 

I don't think that the nativity had giraffes. We do. My favourite African animal.

 

North-west Norfolk

Sunday December 5 

It wasn't forecast to be the sort of day when one wondered why one had left home. Very heavy, squally showers, peppered the morning; familiar roads had unfamiliar puddles, forming fords in many places.

Selbrigg always adds a few woodland birds. No birds in sight - explained by the totally empty feeding posts. Pam soon remedied that. Within a few minutes, a Robin, three Coal Tits, a Nuthatch, two Chaffinches, a Blue Tit, a Blackbird - and two Grey Squirrels had made an appearance. One of the squirrels only had a third of a tail. Road accident? A Muntjac made a fleeting appearance on the track beyond the gate. The large pond/small lake's Mute Swan family came over to have a hopeful look, as did the resident Moorhens and Coot.

We were pleased to add Red-legged Partridges as we entered Valley Farm lane. Until we reversed into our usual turning spot  before the lane becomes private. 

 

 

Cannon fodder. Feeding until the next shoot. Wild birds? A fair fight?

Roadside Buzzards do not usually wait long enough for a photo opportunity. As soon as the car stops, they're off. This one was so wet that he lingered long enough for a couple of shots over the side mirror.

 

Snettisham lacked its usual flocks of thousands of Knot .They must have moved round the wash to Holme andTitchwell. Almost monochrome Oystercatchers and Shelduck startled against the dun mud.

Top of my hope list to-day, Goldeneyes appeared on the last pit. Two handsome drakes and their less obvious females. One of the drakes was performing its mating ritual of throwing back its head whilst uttering an attractive call. Distance meant that I had to imagine the latter.

In an appreciated dry spell, I scoped from Holkham Park gateway on the A149. Two Great Egrets, a small flock of Greenland White-fronted Geese, a few Pink-feet, Greylags, Teal, more Wigeon, two Marsh Harriers, two Red Kites and a flock of waders, which Pam spotted. I turned my scope onto them, lining a small pool, one of the many in view. Black-tailed Godwit, Lapwings and at least six Ruff. I gave up looking for the reported Cattle Egrets seen here yesterday. There weren't any cattle either. Two Belted Galloway bulls were still in the field near to Lady Anne's drive.

A little early for the roost, we spent twenty minutes at Stiffkey. Three more Marsh Harriers, no other raptors.We managed to see over 50 species in the day, the biggest miss being Turnstone. As usual, I loved the outing, in spite of the weather.

Man U winning again was the icing.

 

 

December Already

Wednesday December 1 

Our planned day out birding was quickly amended when Pam saw the trees rocking madly during a heavy rain shower.

After a leisurely start, we drove to Winterton Beach via Happisburgh (how on earth does this become Haysboro), and Waxham. Almost the first bird we saw was a female Sparrowhawk, swooping across the road in front of us, before hugging the plough and away. Disappearing as fast as she appeared.

The favoured field, shortly before Boundary Farm, Sea Palling, held fifty plus swans. Many of them were Mute, a small flock of Bewick's and a larger number of Whoopers, all resting on the ground. The Mute were grazing whilst seated, the others asleep, many of the species-diagnostic beaks invisible for much of the time. We drove on.

No sign of the Great Grey Shrike during a cursory look around. I wouldn't be perched up in this weather either. I began to wish that someone would turn the light on - even though the rain had stopped, it was very dull.

The money collecting woman in the kiosk at the Winterton Beach car park had a hot water bottle on her lap. Highly necessary.

Even more of the car park and area has fallen onto the beach. 

 

 

The protecting soil mound and rope have both been moved further back,  making our favoured viewing mound inaccessible. We parked as best we could to view the goodly number of Atlantic Grey seals sprawled on the beach, and disporting in the surf. I couldn't see any pups amongst them. Maybe these are displaced from the large breeding colony further north at Horsey. The overflow. They look like lumps of vucanized rubber rather than  sleek sea torpedoes.

 

I enjoyed trying to capture the amorous advances and playful courtship of the pair on the beach below. From Here to Eternity, eat your heart out. A 1953 film starring Burt Lancaster, Deborah Kerr and Montgomery Clift, famous for its kissing in the surf scene - as well as being a very good film. At the age of 15, this was seen as decadent. Not by me!

 

Many of the swans had left by the return journey, Half a dozen Bewick's laboured into the air as we stopped, their call not one I've heard before. Too dark for really sharp images.

 

Not the anticipated day out, but a very enjoyable outing.