Monday 27 November 2017

mini beasts and stripey cats



I have noticed recently that Pocket (quarter Bengal) has taken to sleeping on stripy things.


 Now this may be because most of our soft furnishings have stripes on them or because he is trying to hide himself. Camouflage is a useful device, he must have padded round the house choosing the best place to sleep undisturbed - I mean if you went into the bedroom you just wouldn't know he was there. I'm wondering if I leave the doors open if a zebra will find his way upstairs and do the same thing. But this is just silly, fanciful thinking. It would never manage to get up the stairs.

My mother who was in charge of soft furnishings at home, once made a pair of regency striped curtains which she hung in the dining room. When my father saw them he shook his head in dismay and asked her to take them down. He never cared how the house was furnished but he told us he couldn't live with them as they reminded him of Belsen where the prisoners had to wear striped pyjamas. Being a doctor with the army he was one of the first through the gates when liberation happened. He hardly ever spoke of his experiences in the war and of course now he has died I wish I'd asked him more.


 This beautiful butterfly has been living in the house for a few days and maybe thinking this card,drawn by my daughter Chloe is a friend or relative, landed on it. Perhaps another form of camouflage or just trying to draw some nectar. At least there were no chemicals sprayed on it.


 At last a group photo of nine of the ducks. (the other four are in the garden.) The beautiful little brown runner came from this year's eggs and has palled up with the big white female magpie.(centre front) They seem joined at the hip - er - wing and go everywhere together. Her mother hatched four  black ones with green feathers here and there, a couple of white ones with silly hats on and the trout coloured one. Quite an assortment - like a box of Green and Black's chocolates. This reminds me that Pixie has enjoyed helping herself to the odd mini bar of Green and Black's and this morning nicked my toast when I wasn't looking.

 Considering all but the magpie ducks were born here and have known me since birth they are still convinced I'm going to eat them. There is a great deal of quacking and  waddling and flying that goes on whenever I appear. I must try camouflage.


 But as Beezle and Goerthe would say "In the beginning is the deed."

 Pixie's very interesting fact this month is that there is a butterfly in Africa with enough poison in its body to kill six cats.  Perhaps that is why Pocket is in hiding.


The tulip bulbs have arrived and I've just potted them up. I don't want to appear to be wishing away the year but can hardly wait until spring when these beauties unfurl their petals and give both pleasure to us and nourishment to those mini beasts. I jut hope they don't attract that particular butterfly from Africa.


Two Butterflies went out at Noon
Emily Dickinson, 1830 - 1886
Two Butterflies went out at Noon-
And waltzed above a Farm—  
Then stepped straight through the Firmament
And rested on a Beam—   

  And then—together bore away
 Upon a shining Sea—
  Though never yet, in any Port—
  Their coming mentioned—be—

 If spoken by the distant Bird—
  If met in Ether Sea
By Frigate, or by Merchantman—
 No notice—was—to me—


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