Friday, 22 August 2008

Sibling Rivalry

Poor little Oliver. He's had our garden all to himself for weeks now, but suddenly one of his bigger, stronger siblings, the long-tailed fox that I call Kinky, has found out where he is getting fed and wants to claim the territory for itself. Tonight, Oliver, who is limping on his front right leg, had just hunkered down with a time-expired burger, when Kinky beat him up and snatched it off him. Luckily, all we have to do it wave our arms and Kinky runs away, the rotten coward. Oliver, being more intelligent, looks us in the eye and stands his ground. He knows we're trying to protect him and as soon as Kinky has raced through the hedge into next door, he cocks his head on one side, adopts his most appealing look, and waits to see what we're going to throw out next. Tonight, it was the remains of my veggie pasta. He licked off the tomato sauce (made from home-grown tomatoes), then tackled the spaghetti as if he was suddenly discovering Italian blood. Talk about style and expertise. A pluck, a suck, and it vanished one strand at a time.

Thursday, 14 August 2008

Red Admiral

Here's another photo which I have added to my butterfly pic collection. I really need a more expensive camera which takes sharper photos. Any suggestions?

Tuesday, 5 August 2008

Oliver's brother

Here is an early evening photo of one of Oliver's siblings. This is the nearest to him in size and we call it Kinky, because it has a slight kink in its tail. It lacks Oliver's people skills. Whereas Oliver will spot us and come and sit near the patio doors looking appealing, Kinky will run away when he sees humans, which will probably mean that he will live a full foxy life-span whereas the too friendly Oliver... no, it doesn't bear thinking about. He'll be OK so long as he stays in this garden!

Sunday, 3 August 2008

Sounds in flight

When a bird flies past at close quarters, a word often springs into my mind to describe the sound of its wings. The fluffy purr of a sparrow's wings; the clap of a pigeon's (a flock flying over sound like an appreciative audience at a concert); the whirr of a wren. Though when a peregrine falcon flew right past my left ear to grab a bluetit from the bird feeder at my sister's house in Cumbria, I heard nothing as its swoop was completely silent. Even the poor bluetit didn't hear or see what was coming.