Tag Archives: Ostrich

The Yokes On Wayne..

March 20, 2014 Mike Walsh 1 Comment

The Porters have paid a fleeting visit back to the Manchester. This time in order to pick up a car for Wayne to drive back mid-week while Kerry works on till Sunday, then follow Mr. Porter home. Kerry and Wayne have been making do, driving Wayne’s van around, looking, like a couple of professional tinkers.

Its not the sort of vehicle you potter about in in high heels and tiny skirt. Its more designed for boots and muck. And towing excavators round Paris…(See Paris Or Bust)

So, the Idea for the car is to have a more comfortable drive around Cognac, so that when they visit someone it doesn’t look like they’re going to pull up in a cloud of diesel smoke, knock on the occupants and door and ask if they want their drive tarmacing or do they want this old tin bath Monsieur?

Also the main reason is so Kerry can drive herself to the airport on the monthly visits back here and leave the car parked when she lands back in France. This will save Wayne a 4 hour exhausting round-trip, to drop her off and pick her up each time she journeys to-and-from the UK.

They have been busy on the house over the last 3 weeks, concentrating work on the barn conversion, with an eye towards renting it out as a holiday venue for people visiting the area during the summer. This has also involved working on the front and back gardens to make it more presentable.

(Looking back towards the front of the house after working on the garden)

(Looking in the opposite direction before work on the garden, after fitting part of the fencing)

In between all this they continue to work on the farm, looking after the Ostriches. And finding at times its not all fun. The birds are moved into various fields as they grow larger. But sometimes, once they’re in the field, its obvious they’re not quite large enough. So Kez and Wayne will get the shout to bring back a couple of the smaller birds until they’re big enough to move back into the field. This involves bringing a trailer round, loading them in and driving them back into the immediate farm area.

This happened to two of the younger birds, who were duly transported back to the farm. It was upon the arrival back at the starting point, that Kerry was in the kitchen talking to Pierre, when she looked outside to see one of the youngsters panting heavily, taking gulping breathes, having a panic attack in fact.

By the time they rushed outside the youngster had dropped to the floor and was lay obviously distressed, not breathing properly and seemingly running out of energy. Pierre, a retired vet, immediately gave the bird a shot of adrenalen, and it somewhat recovered.

“The wheel barrow. Fetch the barrow Kerry and we’ll load the bird in and take it to a field on its own, where it can recover.’ He said

So Kerry went off to fetch a barrow to carry the bird in.

When she returned though, there was a family visiting Pierre. A mother, father and 3 children.

Kerry had done a double take as she came closer pushing the barrow. It was obvious the bird had taken a permanent turn for the terminal, and now lay prone, stretched out, quite dead.

Pierre in the mean time was explaining to his younger charges,

“Ah oui les petits! L’oiseau est endormi. Voir? Comment il a fermé les yeux et repose, comme un bébé endormi! Oui?”

“Ah Yes little ones! The bird is asleep. See? How it has closed its eyes and rests, like a baby! Fast asleep! Yes?”

Obviously, trying not to distress the children.

And Kerry played along.

“Yes, yes! Asleep! I’ll take our tired bird to the field to rest Pierre? Let it sleep in peace!”

“Oui, s’il vous plaît Kerry. Voir les enfants, l’oiseau va revenir à son champ pour se reposer oui?”

“Yes, please Kerry. See children, the bird is going back to his field to rest yes?”

So it was loaded onto the barrow but its long neck wouldn’t fold on, and it was a constant effort to keep its head on board as it kept rolling off and thudding onto the floor. It was like having a weighted kite tail flopping out every so often. The only thing Kerry could do was stop the barrow every 10 foot or so, and throw the neck and head back on top of the body.

Upon returning she was all smiles and attempting to put a shine on the situation.

“Ho Pierre. The bird is resting in the field (wink, wink.) He’s fast asleep children, having sweet dreams! (Smile)

Only for the eldest, a girl of around 10 to look condescendingly at Kerry and say,

“Eh bien, si ce n’était pas avant, il doit être raide mort maintenant, compter combien de fois vous avez essayé de cerveau le baiseur …..”

“Well, If it wasn’t before, it must be stone dead now, counting how many times you tried to brain the fucker..”

Maybe not quite that, but that’s what she would have said if she could have.

The Ostrich eggs are a great return financially. One egg, boiled, can be served to feed 5 people. Its a feast all on its own. These are collected from the 2 reproduction fields as they are spotted. Only that is, if whoever spots it, knows it wasn’t there the previous day. That way they know its fresh and hasn’t been sat in the sun for a number of days going rotten. If there’s any doubt then the egg is thrown away.

Now Wayne, in an effort to meet the demand of nieces and nephews who having gone to school to tell all and sundry their Aunt and Uncle are working with Ostriches, have began clamoring for Ostrich eggs, (Blown) to take into school in a kind of show-and-tell. So Wayne had picked up a couple of eggs that he knew wouldn’t be used and were due to be thrown away. These he duly took home to prepare for the smaller family members on the other side of the Channel. Taking great care, he took the first egg and propped it in position, then took his drill, set up with a fine drill bit, and carefully began to drill a hole in the end of the egg in preparation to blowing the yoke from it.

This drill bit was completely unsatisfactory though, and wasn’t really doing the job. So it was time to resort to a proper drill bit. A hole cutter in fact. The type of tool you would use to drill a hole to allow a set of kitchen sink taps come through.

This would surely sort it out.

The trouble, with picking up an unclaimed egg your not sure about, is the fact that its just that. Your not sure about it. Keep in mind you’re only going to blow an egg that is going to be thrown away. The problem is, although you know its passed its best you just don’t know how long its lain unattended.

Until that is you try and drill a hole in one end then the other so you can blow the yoke from it to create an empty shell.

Which is what Wayne did for his young niece and nephew.

Kerry was in the house at the time when she her the loud yell, which immediately trailed off into retching, and the sound of someone crashing around the barn stumbling into things. She rushed out to see what had happened, thinking Wayne had had some sort of accident. Which, in a way he had.

The trouble (as Wayne found out) with a rotten egg, is as it decomposes, gas builds up on the inside. So when you take your trusty Makita cordless drill, insert a 15mm hole-cutter bit, hold the egg between your thighs and begin to drill the top end of the egg, what actually happens is, that the hole you create, goes off like a sawn off shotgun.

The egg blew up in Wayne’s face like a geyser. A explosive spray of clotted, rotten egg. It erupted into his face, all over his hair, chest and even into his mouth.

In fact most of his person received a generous dollop of rotten egg. Wayne did the only thing he could do, which was drop the egg and begin stumbling blindly around the barn, throwing up all over the shop. It was all in a effort to get as far away as possible from the smell of rotten egg, which, considering that it covered him,
was difficult in the extreme.

It was like attempting to run away from himself, whilst trying to rub egg from his eyes while falling over everything in his path, bent double, retching, with his toes curling in his egg covered boots.

Into this picture rushed Kerry, slightly frantic hearing the noise emanating from the barn, to see Wayne in his obvious distress, struck blind, heaving like it was terminal.

The first thing she did was begin shouting Wayne.

“Wayne! Wayne whats wrong!! Are you O-”

Then the smell hit her.

“Wayne! Oh jesus Christ! WTF is that smell Urrrrrgh! UUUURGH!!”

Only now it had turned into a vomiting and retching contest, as both of them wheeled away from the other trying to get away from the source of the smell. Only, the smell was everywhere. Rotten egg is unbelievably pungent. If you’ve ever smelt one you will know what I mean.

Only, this wasn’t a normal chicken egg. This was an egg of epic proportions. This was a Desperate-fucking-Dan size egg. An egg to end all eggs. This fucker had just blown up all over Wayne, who was now folded over in the opposite corner of the barn from Kerry, in the process of trying to lick his own arse, in an attempt to take away the taste of rotten egg. Anything, in fact, would have tasted better than what he was currently tasting and smelling.

Whilst across the room Kerry squinted through the tears streaming down her face shouting Wayne.

“UUUUUURGH! UUUUURGH!! Oh dear God Wayne! OH deeeeear Goooooooodddd!!!! UUURGH!! WTF have you done??”

I can’t really go on in good faith describing the retching contest that went on like tennis across the barn. The smell.(Jesus the smell) And the noise of the stomach churning hawking. Each one setting the other off like a couple vocal minefields. As one began heaving the other would then react accordingly and follow suit.

The only thing I can really add, is that the young niece and nephew are still waiting for they’re blown Ostrich eggs.

And the only way they’re like to get one is if they come over and blow one themselves.

Wayne has a drill set up, waiting to be used. Kids, come on over.

Dance Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Ron

February 10, 2014 Mike Walsh 3 Comments

I was pleasantly surprised on Monday to receive a visit from Kerry and Wayne. They were in the process of changing vehicles, having bought a small digger and trailer, and were over to collect and transport it back to France. They had just completed a 15hr grueling journey by car from France, and having arrived at 2am in morning it was a case of straight to bed.

They called to see me Monday evening with the latest updates on their progress in France.

Kerry’s French lessons seem to be slowly but surely paying off. And she is now at least semi conversant with the various dirty old men that seem to be attracted to her, and flirt outrageously in their efforts to woo her. I’m not sure if it has something to do with Kerry’s height, or the diminutive size of the attracted suitors.

They all seem to waver around the 4 foot 6 mark.

I think what attracts them is, the ability to stare at her chest unashamedly because its at their eye level. Also, if it came to passing out vertically, they would do so and literally lean face first against her bosum.

For example.

She and Wayne were wandering around a market in the center of Cognac, and it being lunch time, the market traders had closed the stalls to sit down with each other, have a spot of lunch and a gossip. Quite a time established event. As Kerry and Wayne made their way through the abandoned stalls, Wayne watched the traders reactions as they approached.

The Monsieur’s sat around some white plastic garden tables, breaking bread and having a spot of wine. He noticed one chap spot Kerry and began nudging his friends to bring her to they’re attention. Then after a spot of winking and nudging he jumped up and made his way to Kerry and Wayne, asking to be allowed to have his photo taken with Kerry.
(the dirty old bugger)
Kerry laughingly obliged and it was a matter of moments before he was asking for a kiss.

God knows where it would have ended but Wayne made a point of straightening his Deputy Sheriff badge (See- There’s A New (Deputy) Sheriff In Town) and the vertically challenged Monsieur retreated, albeit triumphantly back to his gang of work friends who were cheerfully showing they’re admiration for the little fella having tackled the big red head.

“Rest une noggin on these muffins, Monsieur,” Said the kindly lady…

The second French love experience took place in the supermarket.

While Wayne was perusing the meat aisle, Kerry drifted off looking elsewhere. She had noticed this small, elderly gentleman as she was casting about looking at various items, but hadn’t taken much notice, just that he was well dressed and short.

Personally I’m beginning to believe – on looking at the evidence – that she’s targeting defenceless, horny old men.

This enthusiastic old man had taken one look at Kerry and made a bee-line for her. So when she turned from what she was looking at, she literally tripped over the gentleman.Automatically, her French kicked in,

“Excusez moi Monsieur! Pardonnnez moi!!” (Exscuse me sir! Pardon me!!)

But the old chap, at 80 and a day, was anything but put out. It was then that she realized the reason she almost tripped over him was because he had actually made his way directly behind her to instigate this moment.

And as he opened his over coat to display a bandolier of Viagra, clicked his heels, tipped his head and said something along the lines of,

“Bonjour grande dame. Tu ressembles à un énorme sac de Malheur.”

Hahaha wink wink

“Mais lookee ici, je peux aller toute la nuit comme un train à vapeur de seulement 6 de ces bébés. Une danse de fantaisie?”

“Good afternoon tall lady. You look like an enormous bag of trouble.”

Hahaha. wink wink

“But lookee here, I can go all night like a steam train off just 6 of these babys. Fancy a dance??”

Kerry got the message, and although flattered, had to decline both dance versions.

Which brings me to the Porters dance class.

They had been out for a coffee in the center of Cognac, (Kerry probably on the look out for another old duffer) and while Wayne was quietly sat having a cappuccino, reading the paper. Kerry in the mean time was sat watching some people Salsa dancing in the square. She was mesmerized with the steps, actually moving her feet in time teaching herself the moves. So when they indicated they were short of female dancers and gestured towards her – would she like to join in – she did what she thought was the only modest thing to do. She made a show of holding her hands to her chest as if to say,

“Who Meee?”

And made to look over her shoulder ready to jump up and say ,

“Oh go onnnnnn then!”

The woman behind her had no such reservations however. With arms waving, she almost bowled Kerry out of her chair and tipped her own table over in her rush to partake. Poor old Wayne had to attempt to enjoy what remained of his coffee while sitting directly in the way of Kerry’s pursed lips and laser like glare, as she stared at the offending lady who was prancing around like a baby elephant (Kerry’s words), thinking,

“That should have been me.”

So, they’ve decided to enroll temporarily in a dance class. Thinking a spot of Salsa would add even more sunshine to their lives. They asked around and were pointed in the direction of this class.

What it turned out it wasn’t, was a Salsa class. What it turned out itwas, was some sort of medieval dance. Average age 400. You know. Stand side by side, hands held daintily at head height, then step together, left, forward, right, back. Then right, forward, back, left. you get the idea? It was like king Arthers court come to Cognac. Not that hot, dazzle, quick step Salsa that they had in mind.

Kerry and Wayne actually gave me a demonstration. They were both all dainty, on their toes, left, forward, right, back etc. The trouble was it just wasn’t in time with each other.

One went through one routine while the other was dancing something completely different. It was like watching two people trying to fly each others kites.

Finally, speaking of dancing.

Kerry and Wayne were on their farm duties prior to their home visit, part of which involves moving live stock around on the farm. When I say live stock, I mean the camel, zebra, horse’s and goats.

This means moving them to a near-by field that they share with the breeding pair of Ostriches (Ron and Nancy, see – Vive Le Garlic, and Sucked Off By A Camel)

To enter the field takes some guile, as Ron, the very aggressive male Ostrich, doesn’t take kindly to people intruding on his love interest, Nancy. If you’ve read previously you’ll know that the entrance to the field is via one gate, with a fence in the middle, which allows access to booth fields when open. The main point here being, you have to weigh up where Ron is before you enter it, and judge whether or not you can open the gate and herd the animals into the adjacent pasture, before Ron notices you and sets off on a mad charge.

All in the nature of protecting what’s his.

I’m much the same with chocolate dipped ginger biscuits.

Anyway on this occasion, gate opened, animals bullwhipped in by Indiana Wayne and gate shut by Ostrich whisperer Kerry, with Ron’s dramatic drumming footsteps getting closer.. When Ron finaly arrives though, it’s to see a now closed gate, and is throwing himself against it in some angst that these intruders have pulled the wool over his eyes.

Yet again.

And – Goddammit – he can’t reach the bastards.

Kerry and Wayne continued herding the animals further into the field laughing at Ron’s harmless rage, as he batters himself against the fence putting a show on for his other half.

(See Nance? See Me? big Ron?? See Big Ron frighten these puny humans! Ron Big! Ron Strong like Bull!!! Nancy In for Ron Time Soon!!! Hoorayy!!)

I think the Porters are resigned to the fact that Kerry handles the Ostriches better than Wayne, while Wayne gets the truck stuck in mud much better than Kerry (to follow).

On this day though, Ron not to be outdone, has obviously been giving some thought to the situation, and with Kerry and Wayne looking on bemused, does no more but gallop deeper into the field, along the now dividing fence. Until he reaches a designated point he’s marked for himself.

He squares himself up to it, squats, then hops some 4 foot vertically straight over it.

Into their side of the field.

The previously bemused Porters can’t quite believe it and are stood slack jawed, until Ron turns round and heads straight for them.

(Yeah. Who’s laughing now?)

It then became a race between Kerry, Wayne and Ron as to who would reach what first. Ron catching them, or the Porters getting to, and through, the gate.

As it was it turned into a rolling launch over the gate, with Ron a close third. Ramming himself into the wood work, feathers fanned out around him hissing like mad.

Kerry and Wayne turned laughing breathlessly, to look back where Ron stood, anger apparent in every jarring crash against the gate. Then as Kerry straightened up he did the only thing left to him. He seemed to clear his throat with a wracking cough, then spit a big elastic dobber in Kerry’s face.

If you don’t know this then I have to tell you that Ostriches eat their own excrement, so I have no need to explain Kerry’s reaction.

“You fucking, fucker, you Fuck fucker!!!!! You Dirty Fucking fuckerfuck!!!”

Kerry is quite soft hearted with animals, but at that moment I think Ron was closer to becoming a really big drumstick than ever before. Even he quailed before Kerry who now looked like she was wearing a terribly fragrant Phantom of The Opera mask.

I mean, this shit caked one side of her face and right through her hair. And in between, with her arms held apart from her body, and trying to spit out what she imagined she had in her mouth, she topped Ron’s rage from moments before and added brimstone..

Wayne, obviously didn’t laugh. Then. Lets face it, he was on her side of the fence. He’d have been better getting in with Ron than laughing in the face of Kerry’s incandescent anger.

As it was, Ron retreated back up the field and hopped himself back into his side, making his way back to Nancy.

(You see Nance? See Big Ron? Spit in Big Haired Lady’s face?? Ha! Hahahahahaha!! Now Ron Big Love time!!!)

So. Apart from the flirting, elderly, diminutive, Viagra ready French men. And despite the jump over the damn fence, (come on) spit in your face big bird, Just dying to trample your ass.

Everything’s going dandy.

As I end this, the Porters are now on route back to France. Having successfully acquired Wayne’s new toy (His mini digger) they will have stopped on the way to rest up. And, being unable to resist it, Wayne will probably be scoring,

“WP loves KP”

in the car park tarmac with his new toy.

There’s A New (Deputy) Sheriff in Town

January 13, 2014 Mike Walsh 3 Comments

My daughter Emily and her boyfriend Vinny, recently travelled over to France to stay with Kerry and Wayne at their new home. I know everybody on both sides was looking forward to this, having seen little of each other for months, it’s just so nice, to catch up with those you love.

Emily, is a beautiful, amazingly bright young woman and I never cease to feel awe at all her achievements. She’s like a ray of sunshine in my life every time I see her, and never fails to make me smile. (Usually with some ridiculous comment.) She is forever effervescent, very bubbly and always dizzy in such an endearing way.

She is studying at university to be a Speech Therapist and is totally dedicated to her cause. I don’t think people realize just how incredibly in depth the intricacies of the subject are.

To my shame, I know I didn’t. But I do now.

And with an important family member suffering from a serious neurological disorder, I’ve no doubt it fires her constantly, to succeed in this field.

But as she’s in France she was adamant the chance to speak French. Having received top grades at GCSE and A level in French, it was an opportunity to put it to use. And believe it or not, she speaks fantastically well.

Now speaking to her via Skype I know how excited she was to have this opportunity, just hoping that the natives would understand her. To her surprise and what I think Emily never took into account was – that people in France speak french as well!!

Incroyable!

So when the local Mayor held a party for the village, Kerry and Wayne jumped at the chance to introduce themselves to other villagers via – (magnifique!) – Emily.

It was a roaring success! Apparently, my daughter is now engaged to her boyfriend Vinny. This came about whilst having a conversation with an elderly french lady who was partially deaf. She couldn’t quite hear what was (eventually) being shouted, a real cupped ear and squint of concentration moment for the Madame.
With Emily trying to explain Vinny was her “boyfriend’ (mon copain), and the old dear deciding to go for a visual translation to fit her own idea and shouting back,

“Ahh! Oui! Fiance’!! Tres bon!! Fe`licitation!!!” (Ahhh! Yes! Fiance’!! Very good!! Congratulations!!!)

Not much you can do in those circumstances. The shock could have killed her so Emily just shrugged and said,

“Oui! Merci….”

In the mean time she was contending with Kerry and Wayne guiding (Pushing) Emily in front of people they wanted to be introduced to, it was like

“Speak Emily! Speak French! Now!!” Tell them – Me Kerry! Him Wayne!! Indiana!!!” Whilst making frantic eye contact with the target and pointing at Emily.

I’ve no doubt that the old, “Shout Loud” to be understood had been used quite often by Kerry and Wayne up to that point, and having Emily there to translate was a chance to introduce themselves and look normal.

(Oh yeah)

(The whole village are aware of Ostrich Whisperer and Indiana Wayne)

But, it was an opportunity not to be spurned and Emily was walked around and thrust upon most of the village population. And Emily, upon realizing she was understood, (finally), couldn’t be shut up.

She’s been blathering away like a mad French washerwoman for the whole trip. And the only disappointment has been that some French people like the chance to practice their English…

But Emily persevered just for her own enjoyment and probably badgered almost everyone she met into speaking French. I think even if she had met someone who wasn’t French, they would feel obliged to make the attempt, just to try and dispel the disappointment in Emily’s eyes…She has that effect.

In the meantime, Kerry and Wayne have been establishing themselves further into village life. The farm they both help on, owned by Pierre, is a monument to the abstract. With the Ostriches and Camel, there are also Zebra, bison, horses, poultry, Goats and assorted domestic pets..

Pierre lives in a beautiful – what can only be called – a mansion. Ornate and rustic all rolled into one.

He obviously likes a bargain, because during Emily and Vinnys visit, he had cat litter delivered for his cat. (2 tops.) And when I say delivered, I mean by van. Somewhere in the region of 1/4 of ton.

This is an estimate. All I can go off are the 6 wheel barrow journeys it took Indiana Wayne to unload it.

(And that’s not easy in spurs)

This cat can obviously shit like an elephant with a laxative death wish. You wouldn’t want it in your garden.

Also on the delivery were bottles of natural spring water. This being for Mark Antoinette. The goat. Who lives in the basement. Now mark isn’t your normal “Maaaa” type of goat. Without exaggeration he’s as big as a donkey, and goes more like “MAAAAA” in a deep bass. And I think the only reason he lives in the basement is because He chooses to live in the basement. You want to move me? Bring it sucker.

The first Wayne realized he was there was on his initial trip down to drop off the cat litter. It was one of those moments where you walk in, pause, look sideways actually make eye contact with the goat, and realize,

there’s a big fucking goat in the basement

It was a shared experience that Mark handled better than Wayne. Mark ignored Wayne, while Wayne upon realizing he was minus his whip, gave a little whinny, tried to rearrange his legs and get the wheel barrow between him and El Donkey.
Happily I can reveal Mark decided not to trample Wayne.

Anyhow, Pierre is a retired vet and well versed in what his live stock need to stay healthy. And it just so happens that Mark needs bottled water. For what reason I am yet to discover, but it sounds romantic.

In the beautiful rustic kitchen, with the rustic windows and lovely rustic table, lives the chicken. In an apple box on the windowsill. Le Cluck being afraid to leave said windowsill because of the dog who sits and watches it waiting, just waiting for it to get down so it can eat it.

And the day previously Wayne had arrived to see Pierre, only to find him having just castrated a young male cat. On the rustic table. Not for fun I hasten to add, but because it had been, (as all the bastards do,) pissing all over the house. Then it was a quick mop down, brush the bollocks in the bin, bread and cheese slapped on the table and an invitation to “Manger?” (Eat?)

Lots of belly slapping ensued and “Full!” from Wayne.

In the meantime the day to day routine are becoming more established, with Wayne ready to move forward in his animal husbandry.

It so happened that Kerry and Wayne had to move animals around and needed to put the camel, zebra, bison and horse into the field adjacent to Nancy and Ronald’s, two breeding Ostriches. Ron is huge, bigger than the female, very territorial and very aggressive. So care is needed around him. I don’t think people realize how much damage these birds can do. Its not like they’re over size blue tits. These things could quite easily trample you into the ground without to much effort. They may look fluffy, hopping from foot to foot, but they could kick the crap out of you and come back for seconds.

So, if you can imagine, the two fields have a dividing fence but shared gate, that when open allows access to both fields.

Now obviously preparations were needed in order to complete this task safely. And eager to demonstrate their new abilities, they took Emily and Vinny down to watch.

Wayne, went prepared, in his 10 gallon,(tipped jauntily), Spurs, kite like chaps and new Deputy Sherriff badge, looked the ultimate professional. And no doubt Emily and Vinny thought so too.

It was a simple matter of opening the gate and herding in the various livestock. The camel goes first because (of course) the zebra follows the camel. After that someone takes the horse and the bison follows the nag.

But during this as the zebra heads in after the camel, in the background came the dull drumming across the ground.

A quick check over Waynes shoulder see’s Ronald Galloping across the field to confront the intruders. So then its a race to get the horse in and (oh Jesus) the Bisons taking in the scenery. A smack on its arse and its moving again with the “Derumderumderumderum” getting closer.

Waynes just manages to slam the gate closed as Ronald rams into it. Then its a case of trying to keep the gate pushed to, but unable to lock it, whilst Ron is attempting to kick the shit out of it, Wayne and anything else his flailing legs can get to.

I swear, if it had been for a South westerly blowing in Waynes chaps, he wouldn’t have had the strength to hold that gate shut.

Kerry in the meantime is hopping round Wayne as he’s wrestling with the gate and Ron, trying to latch it with out getting too close to El Kung Foo.

Finally, they managed to latch the gate.

I think, nay, I know this months visitors have had a great time. Because without a doubt, Kerry and Wayne always go out of their way to make someone’s stay an experience to remember.

But If you visit and they suggest a little bit of “herding”.

Just say no…

“Sucked Off By a Camel” …as they say in France

January 5, 2014 Mike Walsh 2 Comments

Hearing the latest from Yosamity Wayne and Kerry in France I can only pass it on.

If you’ve read “Ostrich Heaven” you’ll know Wayne has a tendancy to dress like Clint Eastwood, what with the leather chaps, ten gallon hat and spingly, spangly spurs.
And this is only to drive the tractor to pick up the paper.

But, seriously, that’s not true. He wears them when he’s on round up with the ostriches, Donkey and flouncy camel. I say the flouncy camel lightly, but its a huge creature. Not some big humped, easy going moulting fluff ball. Its massive. And if it decides it wandering over there, then tip your hat and clear the way because,

Its going over there….

Its a mite unpredictable with the size and presence to be and go where it wants to. But looks pleasant enough, actually like most livestock that people are inspired to pet then say

“Awww its soooo FLUFFY!
ARRRRRRRRRRRRRMyfingersmyfuckinfingeeeers!!!”

So, with the camel, huge as it is, with its roly poly plodding gait, its surprising how it just blends into the scenery and goes stealth bomber.
Like its been coated with a mental anti-radar paint.
Thats why Kerry and Indiana Wayne try keep the farm between them and it.

So you’ll be impressed to know they are adapting and integrating daily into they’re new lives, and, with all that’s thrown at them.

What I’m glad to report is Kerry has leapt forward in her relationship with the Ostriches. She’s now a fully fledged member of the flock

How? How has she done this?? – I hear you all cry, and Wayne most of all.

See, as we’ve already seen its about the gently, gently aproach NOT, the strangle them firmly till in a headlock and kick ’em when they’re down.
(“Get down and STAY down!”)
Tripping over your spingly spangly spurs doesn’t help either.

I mean how can you creep up on an Ostrich going “Ker-ling! Ker-ling! Ker-ling!??
You CAN”T. (Wayne)

They’re all on the opposite side of the field before you’ve taken your second step from your 1934 tractor.
And buying that bullwhip on amazon isn’t going to do any good either.
(You’ll look FANTASTIC though xx)

To be fair how Kerry discovered how to approach the ostrich’s without them all galloping off in a cloud of dust was by accident. I know this because she’s only just worked it out herself and begged me not to tell Wayne. Unfair I think, but who am I to destroy a new growing fad in Cognac?
(If you ever visit and go into town for a nice coffee and the waiter bullwhips it from his tray onto you table – you can seriously look wayne in the eye, shake him firmly by the hand and thank him for inspiring the experience.)

So, what has Kerry discovered? Its her hat!
She wears one of those leather hats with the furry rim and drop down furry flaps. And, when you look at her – out of the corner of your eye – from 80 yards or so, you can actually see what the Ostriches are seeing!

They seem to think she’s a miniature Ostrich! So when she comes into the field they surround her thinking she’s a stunted short arse Ostrich who need help! Its like they do a Big Bird wagon circle and pen her in, so she’s at the center of a flock of 9 foot birds.
I mean, take your pick – who do you want to get a grip of first??
Which is why Kerry is now the equivalent of an 1800’s chimney sweep’s apprentice. You know, the person your going to send up the chimney. That really tight space, with a brown paper bag (What for? we’ll tell you if you need it son. Upsadaisy.) and say

“You’ll be fiiiiine. Its a doddle. There nothing to it.”

So its a case of –

“kez off you go into that field full of 40 something 9 foot turkeys and just, you know, just bring them over here.”

Ending with

“You’ll be fiiiiiine. Can you run fast by the way? Why? Oh just to get them here quicker..avec.”

So it was with some pride that when Kerry and Wayne had visitors over Christmas, namely my Mum, Holly and Wayne Emmo, they took them down to the farm to demonstrate they’re amazing progress with the animals.

“Wait till you see the RAPORE we have with the animals! Its fantastic! Gently, gently – works wonders!!” (with Indiana Wayne cracking his whip and prowling up and down the fence – KerlingKerlingKerlingKerling – just waiting, for his chance to shine.)

And Kez, at the fence just demonstrating how – hat on – the birds come galloping to see her, -hat off – and away they drift.

Tadaaaa!

Wow.

Hat on – here they are! Swooping across the pasture to see shorty bird!
Hat off – Wtf! – where’s shorty gone? Come on girls back to the other side of the field..

Wowwwww.

As You can imagine she was like an Ornithologist equivalent of the karate kid mentor –
A real life Mrs. Miyagi. (wax on, wax off. Wow).

My Mum and Holly and Wayne Emmo as you can imagine were amazed.

Then in dropped Stealth Camel.

As Kez was taking her bow, an invisible 2 ton camel leaned over the fence and took her entire head in its mouth.

Obviously the 3 visitors are applauding madly thinking

“Jesus, this is AMAZING!”

Something you would pay big bucks to see in Vegas, happening in front of them!

And here, right HERE Was Kerry showing her RAPORE with another of Gods creatures!

And oh! Look! Here come all the Ostrich’s thinking kerrys got and even BIGGER hat on!

And Oh! Oh! They’re trying to form a Wagon Circle around Kerry and the camel – who at this point is actually sucking off kerrys head.

(sucked off by a camel – Not something that happens everyday.)

And NO! LOOOOOK! Indiana Wayne has taught the camel to take A BLOODYGOODTHRASHING with his bullwhip!

And finally, it let her go.

Awwwwwwwwwww.

Obviously my mum finally clocked that it wasn’t a show and went nuclear mother hen. And then after mopping all the camel saliva off Kerry, was frantically trying to talk her into a Tetanus.

But Kerrys made of tough stuff.

A few Domino sized teeth gnawing on you’re head are nothing!

And I mean NOTHING to an Ostrich whisperer.