||[Dec. 17th, 2017|12:06 pm]
The cat brought a vole in from its early morning walk and deposited it under Ailz's desk. It was giving quite a convincing performance of being dead and I was able to pick it up with no difficulty at all. Only its eyes still had a glitter to them. I took it out and put it down in a place where there were leaves to hide under and it immediately began to scrabble around and take stock of its new surroundings. I would like to think it will survive. Marlowe is fairly gentle with his playmates; if he kills them it's by accident and we wouldn't know how to begin to eat them. All that nasty fur- pah!. If it doesn't come in a foil pack with lots of gravy and/or jelly it's not really food.|
There have been news reports about birds altering their migration patterns to take in the feeders in British gardens. As a nation we're spending more and more on bird food and the birds are becoming correspondingly reliant. I plead guilty. We buy seeds and fat balls and peanuts by the sack-load and the plastic containers we store them in are too heavy for me to lift. This, of course, is the time of year when the less common species start turning up. Yesterday we had something that was perhaps a fieldfare or a redwing or a white-fronted something (I didn't have my book to hand) and this morning there was a goldfinch.