Pixie wanted to be first on the first blog post of the year
She has reminded me that last year we didn't think she'd be with us this year due to her stupendous age (10 in three months time along with her sister Charlie and possibly several more from her litter) and the complications with her lady bits (her words not mine - I wouldn't be so coy)
Anyway she's still full of vim though not so much vigour as her back legs are giving her a bit of jip which she assures me is ipso facto (look it up)
Rocket posing for his happy new year photo which so far hasn't been so happy for him. The other day he went for a walk (err hum - a lurcher rarely walks anywhere) with his new friend Kit and managed to cut his pad on the treacherous flints that abound our fields. There was a lot of blood and he didn't want either me or the vet to wash it. He whimpered and wailed and hid his head under my arm and this was before anyone had even touched it. Yet when it came to the injection and he was told "This is going to hurt" he didn't flinch one bit. He now feels sorry for himself, mainly because of the silly boot he has to wear and for not being allowed to go for a walk.
Rocket feeling not so happy new year.
I must be diligent this spring with the duck eggs - I've lost count how many ducks we have now. Here's a batch having their first water experience in the bath,
The rooks are cawing down the track - they'll be moving twigs soon and the jackdaws will be blocking up the chimneys again. A few years back a magnificent tiny (is this an oxymoron?) plastic soldier circa 1960 fell down the bedroom chimney followed by a few twigs and a feather. I was glad to see the chimney was well guarded though obviously not any more. I wrote a poem about it - see below.
Pocket doesn't spend all of his life lying down though a good part of it. He's difficult to photograph when on the move as I tried the other day capturing him on our walk. The picture was blurred. He likes to accompany us in the gloaming when we go on our evening outing. He trots along behind, his tail bolt upright giving little meowing noises to remind us he his still there.
And wisdom is a butterfly and not a gloomy bird of prey. I heard him chant. When questioned if he'd been reading WB Yeats he trotted past us, looked into the sky and told me to watch out for the buzzard.
I didn't have to ask Pixie for her interesting fact this time. Oxymoron is Greek for pointedly foolish
she tells me. I'm sure she added that she thought that was what I was but when questioned she denied it and said did I know that garden snails had 14,000 teeth?
a reminder that soon all this too will flower
Free as a Bird (new government laws for birds on leaving the EU)
the
jackdaw’s nest against
insurgents,
cuckoos and the rest
of
its kind.
Yes
– the fear of terrorism
has
crippled the bird world.
No eggs to be left unattended
Or
they will be aborted
Birds
can only fly with twigs
ten
millimetres or shorter.
Nests
must conform
to
uniform nest size
No
flamboyant features,
only
utilise
sticks,
feathers and torn up
copies
of the Daily Mail.
Be
suspicious of migrants
Don’t
let them near you
If
they’re not terrorists
they’ll be giving you bird flu.
And
if you can find a plastic soldier
something
supermundane
it
might save your chimney
from
being hit by a plane.
from my Dust Collection
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