OK the tiger's mine right?
Noa now at 16 weeks has over taken Rocket in size. Well she has to grow into those huge paws. He's hanging on by a thin thread though to maintain his position of head boy. He thinks he's the captain of the ship and it's his job to protect all of us which results in barking at any stranger and sometimes even showing a very fine set of teeth.
Between the two of them they have made huge holes in the back lawn, taken any plant that happened to be in a pot and run off with half a loaf of bread that I had baked. That's what people do in Lockdown - they bake bread and I am no exception. Partly because I'm not doing my own shopping and can't rely on decent bread and also because I have so much TIME. And what a good job I have because a clattering of jackdaws and a murder of crows have entered my life.
Because of the virus I've not been going in to the wild life hospital to help with the hedgehogs but I have been helping with the young corvids (not covids) so when I get a phone call I go and collect whatever has fallen down a chimney, been left in the road or picked up by a cat and look after them at home. This time it all started with picking up a jackdaw an old man had found by the road - as it turned out miles from where I live but I'd probably go anywhere for a jackdaw. I drove and drove and met the old man in a layby where he got out of his car, left a box by the road and drove off. As I approached the box looking over my shoulder for police cars as that was when you couldn't go out on unnecessary journeys and they were stopping cars asking where they were going - it felt as if I had suddenly turned into a drugs mule. Imagine my disappointment when I opened the box and found a pigeon squab. Now I'm sorry but surely the old man knew jackdaws were black and this was pale grey and didn't even look like a bird. It had been hit by a car and although I took it back with me it did die which was sad but not that sad.
Currently back home there are two proper jackdaws and three crows and they all get on surprisingly well. Above is one of the jackdaws who can now feed himself and expertly fly up and down but not along yet.
He has struck up an endearing friendship with one of the crows and they sit next to each other on a branch in the shade tunnel and follow each other around. I've never had jackdaws and crows together and am amazed at how accepting they are of each other. I've never seen them squabble, argue or peck each other and they seem to have settled in well. Not so much a murder more of a sedate book club.
Pocket continues to adore Rocket in spite of Rocket's reticence. Either that or he's planning on taking out the other eye.
Rocket much prefers being with Noa who at the moment he can boss around. They like it in the field, tearing, racing,rolling in the badger poo, snarling, barking, biting, rolling in the badger poo.......He's given up on his covid diary and suggests he'll start a cog's dog's blog. We'll have to see about that.
I said to Pocket I hope we're not going to have any more dog jokes and he turned his mouth down and brisked up his whiskers and asked me if I knew what his favourite colour was and I said no wasn't he colour blind? And he closed his green eyes and said Purrrrrrrrrrrple.
Afterwards
Love was a dog lead waiting in the porch
for the dog who was really love.
I stand at the door now and watch
the birds on the table that he
would have scattered like confetti
across the garden.
There is a full moon tonight
and the wolf in him would have howled until
it landed in his feed bowl
and he could have snuffled it with his long nose
leaving the best bits till last.
I stride out alone across the fields in the dusk
the rabbits sitting in the waving grass
as if now I don’t exist
not running, panting, bobbing
to their burrows
but languishing in the knowledge they will
no longer be chased
like the pheasants who flapping into the sky
whenever he passed
now remain in the safety of their shadows.
He was a dog that noticed things.
Sometimes as I lie in bed I feel
the weight of him in the crook of my knees
his legs twitching as he chases those rabbits
in his sleep
and I reach out a hand to ruffle his ears
but meet only bedclothes
crumpled like a fallen bird.
Linda Coggin
