What is going on with the weather? It’s completely nuts. For most of last week I was freezing cold, scraping ice from the van and turning the water off overnight in the greenhouse to avoid burst pipes, trussed up in multiple layers looking like an extra in one of those black and white epic films depicting wretched Russian peasants in the harshest of Siberian winters. Then today it’s 16 ruddy degrees, having not been lower than 14° overnight. From tomorrow night it’s back down to low single figures. It’s up and down like a fiddler’s elbow. Weird. At the time of writing we have thus far avoided any destruction from storm Bert, but the strong winds are forecast to persist all day, so there is still time for havoc.

There is a lot of talk about declining bird numbers in the countryside, but I have just returned from a dog walk in the water meadows at the bottom of our hill, and in one field alone we spotted a Green Woodpecker, a Cormorant, a Buzzard, a pair of Ravens, a Red Kite, a Heron, and a small flock of Fieldfare. That’s in addition to the little brown jobs flitting about in the hedgerow. Several of these species would not have been seen in this region a decade or two ago, so perhaps it’s not all bad news, and that maybe things are just different. On my way back from Wyken yesterday afternoon I saw two separate flocks of Starlings, so perhaps it’s a welcome return of what was once considered a pest in my childhood years, but is now a far less common sight. The Starling is actually a beautiful bird when viewed close to.

Nellie did some rolling in the meadow, something that she likes to do on every walk. Fortunately the muck on her head and back was nothing worse than worm casts smeared into her coat – it is much worse in reality than the photo above suggests.

Last Wednesday I was run ragged by some rampaging dogs on the estate. I was down the garden lifting beetroot when I heard a commotion down in the woods behind me. It sounded like a pack of dogs in full cry in pursuit of its quarry. I ran down to the bottom of the orchard to see if I could spot anything, almost expecting to see the Hunt charging around where they shouldn’t be. As I got closer the barking had changed location and was heading in the direction of Birdbrook, but I could see nothing through the trees, and the volume receded. I went back to my labours, but 20 minutes later the dogs were at full throttle in the other direction again. I then saw three large hounds running along the track behind the big house before heading up towards the parkland. I jumped into my van in hot pursuit and saw them tearing off towards Steeple Bumpstead.

Prior to that I phoned the woman who lives in the lodge cottage at the back entrance to Moyns Park to warn her to make sure that her hens were secure, because the hounds were in a frenzy and could easily do some serious damage to the fowl.  I also posted a message on the Birdbrook Facebook page, warning dog walkers from the village who exercise their dogs along the drive and on the footpaths of the estate to be careful.

My main concern was for the sheep in the field that they were charging towards, but before reaching them they picked up the scent of some deer and changed course. There are several dozen deer that permanently live on the estate, and apart from some being culled each winter to control their number they have little to bother them, living a very happy life in the woods and in the parkland. Their peace was shattered on Wednesday by the hounds, and large groups, as well as individuals ran for the cover of the trees as the relentless baying and chasing continued. I stopped my van almost directly in front of the entrance to the big house, got out and ran across the park towards the dogs, waving my arms and shouting, but they took no notice and veered north across the grassland. I turned to go back to the van, only to see that it was slowly rolling backwards down the drive headed directly for the ha-ha, which had it made it would have been no laughing matter! However, I managed to jump in to the driver’s seat and apply the handbrake – something that I had neglected to do when leaving the vehicle.

I drove down the drive but could not see the dogs, however, after turning round and making my way back towards the garden there they were again, this time close on the heels of a large buck with fine antlers. Once again I stopped, ran towards the hounds (which looked larger than ever) and managed to get between them and the buck. The dogs stopped and I managed to get within 10 metres of them before they turned on their heels and loped off again. Around 2 and a half hours after I first heard them the dogs were caught by a couple of members of the Hunt. Apparently they were youngsters and on their first outing with the pack when they caught the scent of something and broke away. The Hunt was a good two miles away, so the stamina of these 3 was quite remarkable – they showed little sign of fatigue after running non-stop for hours. I returned to my potting shed and wiped myself down with an oily rag and had a cup of tea.

I have not yet found an (affordable) alternative source of organic mushrooms, and we only have two more weeks supply from the farm at Capel St Mary. I will continue to search for a supplier, but it’s not looking very promising at the moment. The Isle of Wight tomatoes have now finished for this year, and it will be April before they return. I can get some cherry tomatoes from Spain, but I won’t buy any until you let me know if you might be interested in them. All of my cooking apples are now sold I’m afraid, and the green peppers are finished. So it’s mostly about greens and roots now.

The broad beans that I sowed at the end of last month are showing through nicely, but I have had to net them because something was digging them up as they emerged. And on Monday before the cold really set in I finished planting the garlic. I have only done two 100 feet rows because garlic doesn’t always ‘do’ on this soil. I have covered them in beech leaves for the winter – though I expect that Bert has stripped them bare again.

Right, that’s me done, I’ve got chores that I need to get on with. We’ve got our Spanish ‘daughter’ Esther staying next weekend, so all of a sudden a list of little jobs need to be done around the house to correct things that we have lived with quite happily for ages. Old Esther couldn’t give a jot about them, but if it keeps the peace…

Phil