Christmas is coming, the Geese have all got fat.

So it’s out to the pens this dark and freezing early morn to get them off to Debbie the farmer’s wife who... does the business. The birds have no intention of going without a fight. They know. The old ones have told them what happens when humans start cutting holly and ivy.

This year's flock who were so sweet when they arrived (see photos), yellow and fluffy, and thinking I was their mummy, have turned out more aggressive than any I have ever known. And we've reared geese for 30 years. I end up with the usual peck bruises on arms, plus... a bloody nose!

The problem is we have sixteen but we have to separate out the old 'parenting' birds. Old grey granny; no problem, the others are all white. But there's still the 'Dad' and 'Mum', or 'John' and 'Eileen' as Lee calls them, to separate out and keep, to adopt again next spring. Unfortunately, during the year they've both managed to get rid of their rings so it’s not easy to tell them apart from the others.

With Lee constantly leaping to the roof because he's so worried they'll peck off bits he is keen on keeping, it’s left to old me to wade in and pull out likely candidates. They don't like this.

We got old John, we are pretty sure as he is bloody massive. And his honk is distinctive. Honking a lot, now.

But could we find dear Eileen? Not for sure. So she's gone off with the young 'uns and we just hope the more professional Debbie can pick her out before it’s too late. Lee very worried. Very fond of gentle Eileen.

There is a slight chance one of our friends might get a tough bird this Christmas.

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