The first cuckoo and a very lucky mouse!

The day started badly. Was dragging on my clothes when I noticed Minnie scratching under the bedroom door. Thinking that her sister, Maisie, was on the other side I closed the door to have a look, but was surprised to see a little mouse scurrying away under the dressing table. Eeek, I thought, bleary eyed, I can’t catch that now! I sighed, fearing yet another corpse on the dining room floor later in the day.

As I went downstairs, I congratulated myself  that I had decided to put a wooden floor down in the dining room, rather than a new carpet. Much easier to clean up behind  the trophies that the cats seem to  be bringing in with sickening frequency.

I was late rising as I had stayed up to watch the new BBC2 detective series. It promises to be good, and was pleased that I had made the effort. But it meant that I was later to bed than usual with the obvious result in the morning. I need 8 hours sleep and my internal clock always wakes me up eight hours after I have gone to sleep.

Max, my horse, is very patient and accepts my irregular hours with equanimity. Always happy to greet me, with a nicker and a smiley face! I turned him out in home paddock as the weathermen said that it was to be really windy and rainy in the afternoon. He can be quite a handful bringing him back from the meadow with wind and rain driving into his face!

After taking delivery of a large number of bales of bedding for the stable, two men from the roofing company that installed my new roof last week, turned up to clear away the rubbish.  I have to say that I would highly recommend the company, Anglia Roofing Solutions. Have never had such polite, tidy workmen before! They were a pleasure to have around.

At last I got into the garden and carried on with flowerbed number two. For once I didn’t have my headset on, listening to Radio 4, so I was lucky to hear it. A cuckoo heralding summer, as it started to rain ! How wonderful, was so pleased as they have, sadly, become a rarity these days. Though I expect the local bird population are pleased at their decline, as, without them, they will only have the magpies, and my cats to contend with.

As I looked up from my toil, I saw Maisie sauntering past with a fledgling blackbird in her mouth! Oh my goodness, did I shout at her! But she didn’t drop it, just bolted off down the garden. Five minutes or so later, one of the roofers clearing the rubbish, who had heard me scream blue murder at her, called out to say that he saw her drop the bird on the drive at which point…. it flew away! Phew, I thought, one less little corpse on the dining room floor!

My poor garden, after night time temperatures of -14 degrees this winter,  so many shrubs seem to be dead or dieing. My bay tree looks decidedly dejected, as does my honeysuckle halliana and I think a well established variagated wigelia, in the bed I was weeding, has seen better days, too.

Distressed bay tree

Distressed bay tree

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Fortunately my spirea arguta is flourishing.

Spirea arguta

Spirea arguta

So many plants can’t cope with such low temperatures. Last year I lost a ceanothus, so planted another in a different place, but the new one looks as though it’s struggling. Will have to research carefully the new plants needed to fill all the spaces in the borders.

Well, here I was sitting writing this post. Max had his tea and my supper was in the oven. There was a rustling under the desk. Thinking that it was one of the cats, I peered into the gloom. Nothing there, only a cast-off cellophane wrapping, that had missed the wastepaper basket. So I carried on typing. There’s that rustle again. Strange I thought, I hadn’t moved my feet.  So I looked under the desk again and eeek, guess what, little mousie was sitting there looking up at me, as bold as brass.

Eeek (again) what could I do? Looking around I picked up an old shoe box and scooped up mousie, before he had time to think and whacked the lid on. Phew, saved him. I rushed downstairs, got into the kitchen and realised that there were two mouse-sized holes in the ends of the lid (presumably to help the shopkeeper to pull the box out of a stack). Eeek, did he jump out on the way down the stairs? Scooping up the kitchen towel I draped it over the box, grabbed a torch, as it was getting dark outside and rushed down the drive to the long grass area on the corner.  Took the towel off and then the lid and shone the torch into the box. Little mousie, dazed by the bright light was looking up at me. “Go on scoot,” I said as I tipped him out. He didn’t waste any time to say thank you and charged off into the long grass. As I walked back up the drive I had a big smile on my face! Ahhh, a happy ending, I thought.

Bye bye Buffy ballerina

Little did I think when I snapped Buffy having her dust bath in the bonfire ashes on Friday, (see yesterday’s 365 #18 post) that it would be her last performance.

I went out late last night to say goodnight to Max and to close up the hens’ coop, because I had been watching the last in the series of The Village (which I found most disappointing!).  After I had dropped the hens’ pop hole door, I went back to Max to give him a couple of carrots and heard argie bargie in the hen coop. As though they were squabbling about having the best perch on which to roost (though no clucking).  Then there was a ‘thud’, which was strange. I now know that it was Buffy falling off her perch. Whether she had a heart attack and toppled over onto the hen next to her, causing the ‘argie bargie’ sounds or whether somebody pecked her and she fell off the perch and broke her neck, I will never know. But there wasn’t a mark on her. So I suspect the former.

She was the star turn in my post for 365 #18 on Saturday. When responding to one of the comments, I said that I hadn’t bonded with any of the hens that I had left, because none of them would let me touch them, let alone pick them up. This wasn’t, technically, true.

Buffy was my ex partner’s hen. When we went to pick them as point of lay pullets, I chose Polly because Light Sussex hens lay really well. My ex chose Buffy, a Buff Orpington, because she was so pretty, like a ballerina, he said. She had a lovely bussle and skirts and seemed to glide across the ground. Against all the odds, she laid an egg a day practically all year in her first year. Which must be unusual for her breed..

In May, three years ago, Pippa, M’s horse, whom he had owned for nigh on 16 years, had to be put down. It was a Thursday so I took Friday off to be around for him. It was 4.15 in the afternoon and I was washing Max’s tail in front of the stables. I happened to look up and saw Buffy, in the jaws of a fox, being dragged off into the ditch at the bottom of the paddock. I ran down there wailing like a banshee and waving my arms like a helicopter.  The fox, probably wondered what an earth was coming in his direction, dropped her in the ditch and bolted!

Poor Buffy came up out of the ditch rather the worse for wear.  She let me pick her up, wash, dry and treat her wounds. Poor thing was in shock. But she survived and three or four days later was all but back to her normal self.  She was a sweet hen, without an ounce of malice in her.

I’m so glad that she had such a wonderful time in the bonfire ashes the day before she fell off her perch. R.I.P Buffy dear.

Buffy's bussle

Buffy’s bussle

Dear Buffy with 'orrible Dotty

Dear Buffy with ‘orrible Dotty

Buffy enjoying her dust bath on Saturday

Buffy enjoying her dust bath on Saturday

365 #18

Friday was a lovely day. It was the first day, in the first week of my retirement, that I had to myself and the sun was shining and it wasn’t windy.

I had decided to spray weedkiller on the paddock, but couldn’t make my brand new backpack sprayer, work! Typical, as it’s a Bank Holiday and I am unable to phone the supplier so can’t get on with the job.

Because of this, the hens had a glorious day on the paddock. Buffy made straight for where I had a bonfire a few weeks back for a dust bath.

Buffy having a dust bath

Buffy having a dust bath

TheBoyandMe's 365 Linky

365 is kindly hosted by The Boy and Me

Photo of the week 4th May

Thursday this week I spent 16+ hours in a tiny village hall as poll clerk in our local elections. Usually it’s quite arduous, but this time it was great fun. You can read all about it here.

We had a variety of animals on leads who came to vote with their owners. Can you guess what this one was?

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Team Lloyd

Photo of the week kindly hosted by Team Lloyd 

In service for my county …

Thursday could have been a disaster. Luckily it wasn’t. It was, in fact, quite a hoot.

I had committed to being a poll clerk for the County Council elections on Thursday. Despite having resided in Norfolk for over thirty years the name of the village on my appointment letter was new to me. So it called for a reccie to be sure of where I was going at 6 a.m. the next morning.

What I found was a sweet, corrugated iron village hall that looked pre-war, but wasn’t, but it was not far off! There weren’t many more than 250 voters on the electoral roll in the two villages, so, I thought, this is going to be a long, slow day.

I arrived at 6.30 am  to be greeted with a jolly ‘hello’ and a wave from my presiding officer, who turned out to be a bundle of laughs. As were some of  the residents who dropped in to vote. The average age of the voters had to be sixty.  But then, there were forty or so postal voters, so maybe they were all young. I sincerely hope so, for the villages’ sake!

When we opened the doors, promptly at 7 am, our first arrival was waiting outside. They came in, wandered around and left without voting…

Voteless cat

We only had 57 voters all day, but they were well spaced out and we met some really lovely people. Everybody, with only a couple of exceptions, was really jolly and we had some very interesting and sometimes, hilarious, interactions!

Many voters were accompanied by their dogs, of varying heights and ages, but one lady came in with something quite unusual on the end of a lead…

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I wonder whether you can guess what he is?  He really was a sweetie. I even plucked up courage to stroke him AND I didn’t get bitten, which is more than that chap on Blue Peter could say. Ha ha.

I took loads of magazines, half a ton of sandwiches, cakes, buns, sweets and my Kindle. Needless to say I didn’t do much reading, but I did stuff myself ! I didn’t however eat everything, so had a lovely lunch today on the leftovers.

I thoroughly enjoyed my day, and I was paid for it too. So that can’t be bad, can it?!

 

A magic moment with Max

One of the many tasks horseowners have to undertake is field poo-picking. I do it every day to keep the grass in the meadow and turnout paddock, sweet. If left, the poo areas will get bigger and bigger and the grass areas smaller and smaller. So, every day I scan the meadow for his dung to pick up with my super duper horse pooper scooper.

One day last week I was hunched over concentrating on the job in hand (no pun intended!) and I felt a weight across my shoulder. Max had walked silently up behind me and rested  his chin on my shoulder. He then nickered quietly in my ear. The vibrations went through my whole body. My legs went weak and my heart pounded. He has never made such a soft, tender, gentle gesture before and it made me feel so close to him. It really must have been the magic moment of a lifetime!

Max in the foreground with Pippa  rip

Max in the foreground with Pippa rip