wide scarlet throats with feathers

I recently came across a letter I wrote for the Guardian newspaper many years ago for their "Letter to...." section. 

 It  was to our first wolfhound Jai but would equally apply to Pixie. In the end it wasn't published there but it was published in The Wolfhound Magazine. I will tack it onto the end of this post.
Pixie is going to be 9 years of age in a week or two - a venerable age, She comes from a great line of wolfies that Fran and Bill have bred (see previous tribute in the post miss - my dog ate my homework
and as far as I know quite a lot of her siblings are still going strong too. She ran after a deer yesterday so is not using a zimmer frame yet.

Meanwhile here is some rook news.

They look like freshly cut figs but they are the wide scarlet throats of two baby rooks given to me to hand feed.

Mouse and Quigley2. They are not related - Mouse is smaller but they've immediately cuddled up to each other in the box which I've tried to make nest like for them. It's lined with straw and Harry the horse's feathers which I had to cut off for the summer to save him getting mites. There's enough to make a horsehair mattress but at the moment are working perfectly well as a liner to the nest.
They need to be fed every hour. They are very demanding and I think one of them has a watch somewhere as they are very punctual with their demands. When they've had enough food they chat to each other. Quigley has a lot to say but Mouse just murmurs an agreement with a Mmmmmm noise. Readers of this blog will know that at this time of year I usually rescue one or two fallen rooks and look after them until they learn to fly and then they fly away. But these are very young that two separate people found on the ground. I've avoided walking past our own rookery incase I find anymore - I love them but don't want a house full of rooks.

Rocket went to a puppy tea party the other week where he met his siblings. (He is the only one who is not rough coated) and they ran round and round for a good two hours without stopping for breath or any of the cakes which if it had been Pixie's puppy party would all have gone in a few seconds.

Found this handsome prince - er - frog - in the tiny water container in the garden - wearing a cloak of duck weed

Pocket was keen to give me his pearls of wisdom this time round( though he denies ever hearing of Rumi) When setting out on a journey, do not seek advice from those who have never left home.
So I said that obviously no one had asked him for advice. He stared into the distance and asked me what on earth I was talking about. He'd made it down to the copse at least once and it wasn't his fault there were no shops around.

Pixie's interesting fact apart from the fact she'll be nine in a week or two is that there is a frog in the Cameroons who weighs more than 3kg and one in Africa no bigger than a bee,

the orchids are all in bloom and compete with the tulips who are also opening their petals

tulip Estella Rijnveld - one of my favourites

A letter to our Irish Wolfhound

Although I have seen you studying the pages of  the colour  supplement, I suspect that you will be unable to read this letter.  For a start the recipe you were looking at was upside down, which indicates to me that you are pretending, or maybe just short sighted.

Firstly I wanted to say how we so don’t mind about the  piece taken out of the back of the sofa , it really was old and your large head fits so snugly over the back of it now, making those episodes of Ready, Steady Cook so much more enjoyable for you to watch. When people told me that you would eat a lot I hadn’t bargained for you actually eating the furniture.  I was a bit upset when you turned my walking boots into a pair of sling backs but the plus side is of course that you have taught us all to be more tidy, we just don’t leave our shoes lying around any more, or adorable, fluffy bedtime toys or the turkey or the birthday cake. Perhaps I should have lit the candles before putting it at such a convenient height on the tea table.

So now we’ve cleared that up I suppose the purpose of this is to say thank you. Thank you for growing from a not-even-small-back-then puppy into the gentle giant that you are, proving that less is not necessarily more, though less of the thieving from the top shelf of the fridge and more of the “actually I wont have any more biscuits thanks” – might be more acceptable. And thanks for not being critical, always being pleased to see me and the good advice on those scones.

 I ignored the people who said you’d be too big and with a “Guess what!” I brought you home and you have filled our life ever since.  Even my old mother who couldn’t walk due to osteoporosis and two hip replacements, and who thought that you were “unnecessary”, conceded that you did save her life when she fell over trying to get to our  telephone before us. Apparently you rushed between her legs just as she was about to hit the floor and carried her off round the table as if she were a knight returning from the crusades.  And you were only a puppy then.

So, big dog, I shall always remember you, particularly the time you sat, your bottom perched daintily on that said sofa, a soft felt hat one of the children had accidentally left on your head, a huge Easter egg{still wrapped}clasped between your jaws, looking as if you were about to take afternoon tea (which you later did .} Anyway, in my opinion this was better than  when you stole my Christmas present, unwrapped it and then eat it, even though it was a Nigel Slater Cook Book.  After all, it didn’t have your name on it – which is another giveaway that you probably can’t read.