Despite the mild weather the cats have decided that it is time to lay
claim to the warmest spots near the
rayburn. I think Smudge and Squeaky look so sweet cuddled up together. Of course, once I'd hoovered the rug they had found other places to sleep.
Elwen in particular is terrified of the hoover especially when I start using the nozzle to get into every corner. Smudge on the other hand doesn't care. The other day he lay plonked on the mat while I hoovered all around him. It was only when his tail almost went up the hoover that he took a swipe at it with his claws and then stalked off in a huff.
When I went outside there was a flock of Blue tits calling away in the trees. They sound like lots of chinking glasses with their high pitched whistles. It was hard to take pictures of them as they darted like shoals of fish from one tree to the next.
Up in the same hawthorn a blackbird was keeping an eye on me. Down at the lake the call ducks were carrying on with their maniacal laughter. I think there are only 2 call ducks left but they quack like hyenas and have been joined by a dozen wild ducks.
This is not a poor hen who has escaped the ravages of the fox, just an
embarrassed fowl going through a moult, (she looked much worse last week with lots of bare skin with new quills poking through).
Her compatriots have not moulted yet and are looking rather superior at the moment.
This is Mrs
HufflePuff, the only one of the ladies to have a name. She is the boss bird and often takes over the nest box when she decodes to go broody. She can aim quite a vicious peck when I slide my hand under her to remove the eggs. She also has a habit of wandering around outside with all her feathers puffed up at
huffling at everyone, hence the name.
Despite the mild weather the cats have decided that it is time to lay claim to the warmest spots near the rayburn. I think Smudge and Squeaky look so sweet cuddled up together. Of course, once I'd hoovered the rug they had found other places to sleep. Elwen in particular is terrified of the hoover especially when I start using the nozzle to get into every corner. Smudge on the other hand doesn't care. The other day he lay plonked on the mat while I hoovered all around him. It was only when his tail almost went up the hoover that he took a swipe at it with his claws and then stalked off in a huff.
When I went outside there was a flock of Blue tits calling away in the trees. They sound like lots of chinking glasses with their high pitched whistles. It was hard to take pictures of them as they darted like shoals of fish from one tree to the next.
Up in the same hawthorn a blackbird was keeping an eye on me. Down at the lake the call ducks were carrying on with their maniacal laughter. I think there are only 2 call ducks left but they quack like hyenas and have been joined by a dozen wild ducks.
This is not a poor hen who has escaped the ravages of the fox, just an embarrassed fowl going through a moult, (she looked much worse last week with lots of bare skin with new quills poking through).
Her compatriots have not moulted yet and are looking rather superior at the moment.
This is Mrs HufflePuff, the only one of the ladies to have a name. She is the boss bird and often takes over the nest box when she decodes to go broody. She can aim quite a vicious peck when I slide my hand under her to remove the eggs. She also has a habit of wandering around outside with all her feathers puffed up at huffling at everyone, hence the name. 
