D-Day!

The line has been drawn.

There are moments in a mans life when his core beliefs, ideals, principles and morals will be challenged. The 11th of December 2012 at 08:00 has been selected by others to be one of those moments.

Those I hold dear have been sent away to friends and family. There, they will await the outcome of this battle of wills and opposing desires.

My strategy is fragile at best. Note the bold and capital letters stating "ALL PERSONS". It is upon this I will depend. Peacefully, I will resist, holed up in my caravan, curtains shut. With no 'persons' present there will be none to evict from this tiny segment of land. This small parcel of the earth I have had the audacity to exist upon. The wolf will be at the door. It is a fool who would open it. A deluded fool who may think he could present the numerous factors that make these wholly illegal, not to mention unlawful proceedings, to the paid mercenaries that wait for him in the hope of neutralising them from their purpose. Money is actually on my on my side. Money may not be finite, but it is rationed and limited per individual. For the mercenaries, it is a 'job', for the employer a limit to how much he will spend.
For me, it is my life. My financier has granted me the entire term of my natural life to spend as I see fit. I will call my approach 'Chicken Belligerence'.

Anyone who owns/has owned chickens will be able to relate my meaning. A chicken will do as it chooses. It will go where it pleases. All its captor can do is limit this to an acceptable level. Despite expense of time and money, one particular fowl of mine persistently escapes over/under/through the fence. The fence was raised and reinforced. Wings were clipped. The chickens were observed. All avenues explored, yet still my belligerent chicken wanders free. I have had little choice but to accept the behaviour. I could kill the 'trouble' maker. I won't, because I have come to admire it! It also cause me no actual physical inconvenience. But I have spent all the time and money that I am willing and as the remainder of the flock keep within the confines, I have cut my losses.

I do not expect admiration will result from my 'Chicken Belligerence'. I also don't think I'll be killed. One of the two parties will be forced to accept the behaviour of the other.

Let us see which it will be. After all, 4 of my 5 chickens remain on death row...

The Hunters Chronicles - Thursday 29th November 2012

It is evident that this year we have entered testing and trying times. For the first time, due to heavy cloud cover and protracted periods of rain, the battery and solar array have failed, plunging us into the dark both technologically and literally. The effect has been most uplifting. No longer has ones attention been frequently distracted by the 'mobile matrix'. Without emails to check, news to read and opinions to be shared you have the stimulus provided solely by that which is around you. It may frustrate those whom wish to contact you. May concern loved ones who, rather than physically visit and converse with you, have come to rely on a text message. The peace and focus gained was refreshing!

Lighting reverted back to paraffin lanterns, as peripheral gadgets such as mobiles and computers are hardly essential to survival, they were left in their state of suspended animation. Such was the delay in the return of our power source, that even the batteries in my little trusted headtorch started to sputter and wane as they gasped for energy.

Now, my time spent hunting has been reduced by the increased consumption of wood and the need for fuel for heating. Whilst my forays may have decreased in regularity, the hunter is always scanning, always seeking to spy a 'source'. More concerning than any of the above, is the distinct and notable lack. The land is still. Quiet. Seemingly devoid, at least by day, of life. No rabbits spotted at dawn nor dusk. The pheasant numbers greatly diminished, though the barrages and salvoes from the guns still echo across the valley from time to time. The leaves remain undisturbed as no squirrels hop and bound and forage amongst them. Songbirds flit from branch to tree. Crows often and noisily frequent their flight paths overhead. Only now and again will the hurried flap and flutter of the distinctive woodpigeon be detected speeding from east to west then back again according to the position of the absent Sun.

The wisdom of our ancestors in their choice to trap and rear livestock now bears new gravitas and meaning. One of our five chickens will die this week. Two more at Christmas as hopes of a pheasant gracing the table have all but evaporated.

I revel in the challenge. I delight in the supposed, though thankfully unreal, demands and pressure this places upon me. Unlike our forefathers, I have a mighty and vast commercial infrastructure to fall back upon should the proverbial poop hit the fan. It may have its failings in the eyes of many for numerous and varying reasons, but as is true of society in general, like it or lump it, whilst it is perceived to fulfill a need and purpose and it works, it works. When it doesn't we'll adapt. Or die. I sincerely hope that my brothers and the sisters of the woods have triumphed over the recent adverse conditions, for if they have succumbed, my reliance on vegetables others have grown and shipped will increase. If not for my captive creatures, it'd be little more than sprouts this Christmas!

Alone I Sit - Thursday 03/02/11

Each morning, I get up, empty my bladder and smoke a cigarette as I survey the sky and earth. On this occasion a cloudless night allowed Jack Frost a rather weak return. Next I clean out, reset, then light the wood burner, grab my rifle, and sit at the bottom of the field in hope that the canada geese will take off within range. If the Mill Pond weren't off limits, or more accurately, if I and my family needed feeding, I'd shoot them on the pond if they ventured near the bank. Once again I was empty handed but not disappointed. Sitting alone, quietly on a beautiful morning is rewarding in itself.
Arranged with Nigel next door to execute four cockerels tomorrow, his wife want it done simultaneously and we just have enough guns.
Planted 50 Italian Alder trees, had lunch, then completed the first course of bricks just before 17:00.
The clouds have rolled in on an unsettled and turbulent wind. To me this is an indicator of the seasonal change taking place. Nature shaking down and getting ready.
Not sure I'll hunt the geese tomorrow, not if chickens need murdering...

The first row of bricks completed.

M Jones