The Hunters Chronicles - Friday 23rd November 2012

Much time has passed since I last ventured out to the fields with the air rifle, though I have not been left wanting for meat and game. Most fortuitously, my quarry has come to me!
I have not executed all trespassers. Only when the 'hunger' has stricken, have at least three wayward Pheasants who survived the beaters and the lines of guns, fallen to the TX200.

The wonderful Pheasant with its superb camouflaged plumage.

Each feather is collected and stored. Can a pattern be created mimicking that which concealed its former owner so effectively?

Just one pellet is required.

On one rare clear and sunny Saturday, I observed numerous vehicles turn into the driveway of a neighbouring farm. When the gamekeepers 4x4 arrived, up pricked my Predator Radar. With my 16 month old in my arms, I wandered up to the lay-by that overlooks the game crop and farmland where the beaters were flushing out the birds. Baba and I watched as each squadron took off to be greeted by a salute and salvo from the waiting guns. I chastised myself for willing each pilot the best of luck in dodging the gauntlet of lead and death that awaited them. I felt almost as though I were sabotaging the efforts of another hunter.

The naive me stood awestruck at the spectacle that lay before me. The synchronicity and co-operation of the humans working together to effectively and efficiently slay large numbers of food. On this level it was a wonderful sight. A beautiful setting, a fitting last scene for those who were about to die this day. I envisioned the glut of birds, the tables laid with the cooked and prepared meat. The larders to be stocked with hanging poultry. The game dealers soon to be re-supplied. The sights and sounds I was seeing and hearing that have come to epitomise country life and living.

The realist however couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness, as each of the guns boomed. Now the guns were not a salute as each soul passed from this world. It was the bark of mans collective greed and insanity. The reputed waste generated by these shoots. The numbers of feathered bodies that allegedly are cast into a pit. The profit. The money paid and spent. I cannot, without indulging in a level of hypocrisy, judge the participants for engaging in their chosen 'sport', for I too on a similar level, find release and enjoyment in a similar practice. Though to my morals my choice of sport is rather more....sporting.

When I had seen enough and the beaters moved on, I retired to my little patch of woodland. I found solace in knowing that all who had caught, and would catch, lead from my barrel would not risk dishonour, would not suffer such disrespect as reportedly is wrought upon their brethen by those with reportedly more money than honour. Is this an insight I muse? Is there perhaps a correlation between the increase of wealth and the decrease of decency and honour?
No. The animal known as the Human and Homo Sapien is very sick. The relatively recent though seemingly endless, all consuming pursuit of currency, the lasting, profound fulfilment such wealth falsely promises appears to be just one of the many causes and symptoms of his malady.

I have to stress I did not see any evidence to support the notion of waste etc as mentioned previously. Even if I had I am a firm believer in "each to their own". I also recognise that what others do and how they go about it is of little concern to me. Either way the result is;

Delicious!

'Jonesing' - Saturday 18/12/10

Nigel from next door popped round during a morning game of chess with Kit. Primarily, he wanted to 'Jones' some tobacco. He also wished to know if we were planning on venturing to Crymych that day. No one else is able it would seem due to the snow and ice. My mighty 4x4 cares not a jot for it. Not only did I end up with a shopping list , but also a shovel and a tow rope. Unfortunately, without grit or perhaps snow chains, my truck couldn't grip enough to tow. We managed to extricate one car after the neighbours son freed his van, but that was it.
Good deeds done for the day, and neighbours resupplied, the evening soon skipped past as Kit and I played a few more games of chess.
3 more centimeters of snow fell and the night got extremely cold. I dare say my 4x4 will be called upon again.

M Jones

Terrible Wind, And Limericks - Wednesday 17/11/10

Levelling Kits foundations 14/11/10

Slaked lime to be used in the mortar 14/11/10

Kits Lime Pit 14/11/10

Slightly squeeze a ketchup bottle then open it. I dare ya.

Am so tired, I nearly put off writing this entry. Am only doing so due to my horrendous short term memory.
Earlier this week I found two adverts for static caravans. One was a really cheap and shabby one on eBay. The auction was at £75 so I over generously put what I thought was a losing bid of £400. Problem was I won the damn thing. This of course happened before I was told it would cost £750 to transport! Being the auction had a couple of days to run, I continued looking and found one in Pencader, outside Carmarthen for £600. The photos were fantastic... The caravan wasn't. Neglected for five years, the gas safety certificate said it all. Next inspection due '07. Great.
Still, I rang down the list of transport companies the man had given me. £350, £300 plus vat etc etc. Being 12ft wide meant it required an escort, thereby bumping up the price considerably.
Thoroughly dejected we returned home. It was then that I received a belated reply from one of the companies. After a bit of chit chat, it transpired they were based a couple of miles away and had a static available. They wanted £1100 but with a bit of bargaining and mostly kindheartedness on his part, he agreed to not only sell but deliver it for £900! I said we'd take a look...
That night we went to bed very much encouraged. Unfortunately, it wasn't just our spirits that were high that night. After buffeting us steadily, at 05:00 the wind finally ripped up the awning and flung it over the caravan in an almighty cacophony of bending steel, tearing fabric, catapulted belongings, falling tables and finally a thump of sodden canvas slapped over the roof of the caravan.
Shit.
My first thought was... f**k it. I'll deal with it in the morning.
Until I realised canvas was smothering the chimney of our freshly stoked fire. Bollocks.
So out in to the roaring abyss I went to sort out one god awful mess and salvage whatever could be saved. Just doing the minimum took an hour with Ayres' help.

The Morning After.

The Battered Cowling.

Like the Titanic, I too could've avoided disaster...

Neither Al Qeada nor Hitler was responsible. Hard to believe I know.

Not the view I paid for...

Still, it sparked a limerick.

There once was a caravan in Wales,

That was subject to terrible gales,

They woke up one morning, minus an Awning,

With only an outline of Bales...

The most part of today was spent mopping up, and eventually re-erecting a rather poorly awning.

You've heard of that caravan in Wales,

That was subject to terrible gales,

Well the awnings back on,

The wind and rain have now gone,

And silenced the groans and the wails.

Job done I went to start the car ready for viewing the static. But there was more... prompting this message to Emma.

We own a small caravan in Wales,

About which people have heard many tales,

Please don't think me mean, or cause a scene,

But i've just found a crack in our windscreen.

I suspect a leak around the glass allowed water to freeze resulting in a vehicular form of frost heave.

Finally, we viewed this static.

Was in a small mess inside having just been transported. The big plus with this is it was in service on a holiday park until this summer. The only downside was a missing vent cap lost in transit had allowed water in the kitchen. Tomorrow the vendor is coming to approve our proposed transport route with the driver, before we commit to anything. If it gets the go ahead i'll be bloody relieved.

Relayed our woes to friends and family and received this reply from our old neighbour.

There once was a couple from Stroud,

Who decided to break from the crowd.

Although their new life,

was full of trouble and strife,

Of themselves they were very proud.

Although it contains an 'inside' joke, I couldn't resist a retort.

There once was an actor next door,

Whose performances left us in awe.

We do miss him so,

but we just had to go.

And hope he wears clothes a bit more.

So life is currently a rollercoaster of highs and lows right now. My day turned to night as I screwed the awning skirting into some logs reinforced with batons to prevent it shredding itself. knowing our luck right now, it will only serve to form a deadly volley of missiles smashing through our roof the next time God farts.

Aww well, one more limerick then bed.

For Nigel, my number one fan, who believes I should be crowned Lammas poet laureate.

We live just outside the Presellis,

To Narbeth we take all our smellies.

The wind is a pain, so is the rain,

If you come, you'd better bring wellies.

M Jones

Alligator Log Stripping - Monday 20/09/10

Up early to gather some kit for todays work. Charlie appeared at 08:50 and we set off for Willow's Forest. What greeted me was an incredible 325 acres of Douglas and Norwegian Fir set across a valley.
Our task was to strip the bark off some 200 2m long sections. For this we had a tractor attachment. This machine was basically 2 cogs and a cheese grater. The log was fed in and gripped in a death roll as an alligator might an antelope, then grated at an obscene speed. Was a horrific and fascinating sight. In the first hour it devoured 57 lengths!
Pretty back breaking work and was glad when 17:15 rolled around. 7.5 hours well, 8 hours minus half an hour break.
Got a text to say there was football going on. Was torn. I was pooped, but at the same time liked the sound of a kick around, even if it made tomorrows labour even more painful.
I decided to go as i felt if i didn't on the basis of work the next day, and being tired from todays toil, i'd be living to work and not the other way around.
We left in Ayres' car and were delayed as one of the guys was a volunteer who needed to erect his tent whilst it was still light. On the way we met a large 4x4 coming the other way driven by a woman who looked far from confident at passing in such a narrow lane. Therefore Ayres had to squeeze further in than was necessary. She passed fine, but as we pulled back out BANG! Ayres gouged out a chunk of his front tyre side wall and a large part of the alloy rim. Not good. He dropped us back, understandably rather pissed off and we took my truck. As a result we only played 30-45 mins but that suited me just fine. Feel sorry for Ayres though...

M Jones

The Fabled Tipi Valley - Sunday 27/06/10

Friday was busy-ish, got the tracking and wheel alignment done on the new 4x4. Just as well too as we decided that we would go ahead and venture off to Wales in search of Tipi Valley.
We packed the necessary equipment in case we didn't find it as it is notoriously off the beaten track.
We got most of the way there before my phone battery died and I just drove on navigating with a combination of instinct and memory.
We found a spot that felt bloody close to Tipi Valley and at around 10 o'clock pitched a tent and bedded down.
I awoke around 5am Saturday morning and had a scout around. All the signs were there. A row of vans and converted campers, cars with maps chargers etc, evidence of traditional crafts and woodworking.
Found some wood and got a fire going, for breakfast we had rice...quite a good porridge equivalent!
Filled our water bottles at an eerily deserted farmhouse save for the cat who had met us the previous night and guided us to our camping spot. Transpired the occupants were at Glastonbury!
By following the track we then knocked on the last farmhouse on the track where the owner informed us we were in the right place, here was the fabled Tipi valley!
Back to the car to gather our stuff and off to the 'Big Lodge'.
We were greeted by Henry, a young chap with dreadlocks who put on a brew and answered our endless stream of questions and listened to our story. He introduced us to Lola and her three children. She in turn invited us to join the whole (or rather the remainder) of the community who were off to the village fair. On the walk down we picked a 12 foot bramble for the competition of who could find the longest bramble...
I joined the Valley men in a football tournament and seriously paid the price. Ouch! Cramp set in quickly due to the heat.
After Carol the Drunk was evicted we had the Big Lodge to ourselves for the duration of our stay.
Another 5am start for me on the Sunday. For me, in this lifestyle, it seems right to start the day when the sunrises, and turn in when it sets.
Frances got to ride two of the three horses with Jaz, I'll probably be heading down to the yurt of my team mate and fellow brewing enthusiast, Dan, to sample some of his much lauded Elderflower wine.
Another hot day so should be most refreshing, undecided as to whether we'll go back home this evening...

M Jones