Lovely with petunias.....this is, of course, the a...
THE DA VINCI CON
Shelby struts his stuff at the show...I`m not the ...
SEX AND THE SINGLE SHELBY
We had a little too much of this sort of thing.......
OF STORMS AND SONJA
Little dears playing innocently on the ruined cott...
EMAIL ME .
Saga of a woman old enough to know better who lets her life be governed by the ridiculous hobby of breeding and showing dogs, musing on life, the twenty first century, Cameron and his mini-me, and the occasional sheep.
"IN DOG YEARS, I`M DEAD"
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Sitting in the sun has given me time to realise that there are a few changes about the old place, mainly to do with the wildlife.
Jim is gone. After three years of solitary living on my roof, huddled up to the chimney in bad winter weather, parading along the ridge in summer, he has flown off into that big crow world out there. Could it be romance calling?
I thought love had entered his life earlier in the year when he was joined on the roof by another crow. Alas, it soon became obvious that this was far from a love match. Jim and Russell fought grimly along the slates and up and down the gables, with sound effects belonging in The War of The Worlds. Things were never quite the same after that. I think his sense of security had gone. And now so has he.
Sadly missed is Notpavarotti the thrush. He was a summer feature on the very top of the tallest spruce, singing his heart out and almost getting some of the notes right quite a lot of the time, while a few branches down Mrs Notpavarotti was busy feeding her fledgelings and murmuring, "Cover your ears, dears - it`s your father again..."
And for some reason there are no bats.
We usually have a lot of bats. Tiny pipistrelles that come out at dusk and hoover up the midges. Anything that does that is a friend of mine. And since the windows are always open in summer, it`s not unusual for the odd bat to venture in and circle the ceiling, sending the dogs into a frenzy. Unlike birds, bats have no stamina and their flying time is short,so I have to catch the intruder in a towel - teeth like needles - and get it out before it becomes Papillon lunch.
I remember once when I had a similar chest infection, following one which headed into the bathroom. I thought I had it now, and rushed in. No bat.
It`s a very small bathroom. I checked all the corners. No bat.
Ceiling. No bat.
Floor. No bat.
Shower. No bat.
I didn`t feel all that well anyway. So I closed the door on it and went to bed. I would sort it out in the morning.
Came the dawn, and I went in there . No bat. Definitely a batfree zone. Had I imagined it? Holy hallucination, Batman!
I picked up a glass, filled it with water and went to take my pills. I put the glass to my lips, something slid down it - and I was touching noses with a very small, very damp, very unhappy bat.
She must have fallen into the glass, which was quite tall, and been unable to spread her wings or get a purchase to climb out. So tiny I hadn`t even noticed her.She was very ungrateful, and when I got the towel to put her out, a vicious struggle ensued, with much beating of leathery wings and snapping of needle teeth.....
....and that was only me.