Preparations for a holiday

In the last fifteen months of intermittent lockdown, we have become more connected to our home. As we think about going away for a week, in the summer, we discover just how much.  The prospect of leaving certain things untended is harder, the list of favours that we have to ask of friends and neighbours longer.

Our doves have grown habituated to Nigel’s presence in the back garden.  They crowd round him, ostensibly to be fed, but primarily for his bird-talk, a stream of idle chat suited to domestic fowl.   When on holiday, we can arrange for them to be fed, but who will keep them up to date with the news? 

Likewise, a young friend from church has agreed to water the plants, but they will surely miss our coaching and encouragement.  I’m sure they will continue to photosynthesise without us, but they will lack enthusiasm.

As for the dozens of wild birds who visit our garden, they may never forgive us.  Our regular supply of seed and suet has already helped them raise one brood.  How could we leave them at what is a critical moment for their second brood?

But our young friend has agreed to re-fill the feeders for us.

So we can leave our house for just a little while and spend some time with our own brood.

The Egg Incident

 At the weekend, Nigel was cultivating our smallish garden and I was inside, writing.  Every so often he would stride purposefully past the window carrying a spade or fork.

After 8 months of gardening, particularly intensive due to this year’s special circumstances, I wondered what could be left to do out there.

Suddenly he rapped on the glass, making me jump.

‘You’ll never guess what I’ve found!’

‘Is it a frog?’ Tetchily.  It is usually a frog.

But no, just by an iris, a complete chicken egg, partially buried.

‘Could it have been kids egging the house on Halloween?’ 

No – it was several feet from the house and not even cracked.  As if it had been laid down carefully.

Laid.

The Vicar next door sometimes kept chickens.  Occasionally the chickens got out.  Once in a blue moon they appeared in our garden.

We could think of no other source for this egg, so we shared the story with him.

He said that they haven’t had chickens recently due to the depredations of particularly active urban foxes.  So that egg had to be more than a year old.

Nigel shook it.  Something inside rattled.  Yep. This was an old egg.

So it makes you think, doesn’t it – if something as large and obvious as a chicken egg could remain unnoticed in our well-tended small garden, what other amazing creatures are there for us to discover on this great planet of ours?  And can we find them before they become extinct?