So that's what my friends think of me...

At a.m recent gathering of our friends, we (unwisely) put up pics and asked for captions.

Here are some of our favourites.

 'There's two born every minute.'

 Does it have an ensuite?

 Public Enemy number one is captured finally.

 I hear the Vegan breakfast is to die for.

 It is okay Sir this van is electric.

 Irish stew in the name of the law.

  Letsby Avenue

'And this is why the Bronze Age was so disappointing.'

'The most embarrassing moment of my life? Well what do I choose?'

 Only one participant again, but at least everyone agrees with me.

 Break out rooms could be tricky.

 Who is that idiot grinning at me... oh.

 

 I told you not to eat meat.

 Hi everybody! (Aside) Are you sure you're not an Eco toilet?

 Nigel has a light bulb moment.

 One of these is very bright the other less so.

  

I've had a good sit down and a good long thing and I still don't know what that pale thing is.

 The revived Doctor Who finally runs out of budget.

Well this is a trifle awkward.

 Where exactly did you bury the car keys?

The first test is a success - the glue is strong enough to hold a dove.  Next step - a cat.

 You can't walk or move suddenly or they get into a flap - humans are like that I'm afraid.

 Help I've got a Nigel stuck on my foot.

 It's okay no one sees the back.

 One more comment and I will change this to a number one.

Hair all done.  Teeth next.

None of the captions for this were very funny, but I like the pic so thought I’d include it anyway!

Swift Response

If there’s one bird for me, then it is the swift.

If I am reincarnated, that's what I would opt to be.

They barrel around our summer skies in small flocks, shrieking with delight as if our rooftops are their own personal Alton Towers.  Life through the eyes of a swift must look like one long arcade game.

But maybe being a swift is not such an idyll – every May when they arrive back from Africa, they find it more difficult to nest. 

Hundreds of years ago, they nested in vast ancient trees which furnished plenty of nooks and crannies.  However, as mankind has dominated the landscape, they have used our buildings instead, colonising holes, cracks and fissures.

But as our building techniques become better at sealing every chink and gap, swifts find it harder to find a home.  Numbers have greatly decreased and the swift is now endangered in the UK.  However, it is not hard to offer help. 

Newbuilds or extensions can have hollow swift-bricks built in.  Existing buildings can have nest-boxes fitted under the eaves.

The church I attend, St Luke’s, doesn’t have much land, but is currently planning a small wildlife garden.  When we talked to Heidi from Herts and Middlesex Wildlife Trust , we discovered we had valuable vertical real estate in the shape of a North-East facing wall, ideal for swift nest-boxes.

So we’ve ordered them now, in time to put up before May.  

Let’s just hope the swifts make those lovely excited shrieks when they see them.

For more about helping swifts:

https://www.rspb.org.uk/birds-and-wildlife/wildlife-guides/bird-a-z/swift/

http://actionforswifts.blogspot.com/

https://www.swift-conservation.org/

photo by Vika Strawberrica, Unsplash

 

 

How to name a Hedgehog

We are sheltering a young hedgehog until it gains weight and can safely be allowed to hibernate.

I am reluctant to name it since it is a wild creature.

However, Nigel and Carenza insist it should have a name.

And that the name must begin with H.

Nigel favours Hodgkins, but it reminds me of Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

Carenza advocates Hannibal, but its far too Silence of the Lambs.

I continue to call it ‘The hedgehog.’

The other evening when Nigel was in a meeting, I went to the bathroom (where its cage is) to give the hedgehog its brimming dish of catfood.

Only to discover that the cage door was open and there was nobody at home.

I stared at the open door catch.  Was this a ‘Clever Girl’ moment as in Jurassic Park when the velociraptor learns how to work doorhandles?

Or was it just another sign of my own decrepitude – had I perhaps failed to lock up after mucking the cage out that morning?

On hands and knees, I peered under every bed, seeking Hannibal-Hodgkins.  But I did not call its name as it would freeze, curl up and go silent. Which is exactly how a wild animal should behave.

And, more importantly, calling its name would also have alerted Nigel to the fact I had let the hedgehog escape.

Eventually, a slight rustling led me to a cosy nook beside the chest of drawers in our room.

With garden gauntlets, I returned the thwarted hedgehog to its cage, and the compensations of  nest-box and catfood.

But I do at least now have a name for it.

Houdini Hedgehog.

Photo by Alexas_Fotos on Unsplash

A hedgehog lodger

 

Late on Friday night, Nigel went out to the compost heap, as is his habit.  I know he is having a wee on the compost (‘to nitrogenate it’) but neither of us chooses to mention this.

He was gone longer than usual.  I began idly to wonder if a compost monster had reared up and grabbed him in its grassy jaws.

But no, he burst in saying ‘Guess what I’ve found!’

I accompanied him into the dark garden to find…nothing.

Apparently, there had been a hedgehog snuffling about by the compost bin.  Hedgehogs are not quiet creatures, so we caught up with it by the fence. At first I was delighted but soon realised the hedgehog was undersized – a young one.

We googled the weight at which a hedgehog may safely hibernate – 600g.  Below that, it may well die in its sleep.

We put our young friend on the kitchen scales – 475g.

We would hold onto it until it reached fighting weight and could successfully doze through the remainder of winter.  We had done it once before, a decade ago.

Tricia very kindly lent us a dog crate and Duncan brought it round.  We fussed about hedgehog food and bedding.

Carenza, who had taken charge of our previous hedgehog lodger had another preoccupation –

‘What will you call it?  Hannibal?’

‘We don’t know the sex yet.’

‘Well, I think Hannibal is a pretty name for a boy or a girl.’

But we haven’t named it yet.  After all – it’s not a pet, but a little creature who must be returned to the wild one day.  And that is what we are working towards.

Photo by Alexas_Fotos on Unsplash

Golden Tree Moment

I always look forward to one particular Autumn moment – as you walk through a narrow gap between our street and the main road, straight ahead is a beautifully shaped maple tree which turns completely golden, just before its leaves begin to descend. 

Last year, the moment never came – a gale stripped the foliage before it had yellowed. But this year it was back in its full glory.

EXCEPT,

When I went to photograph the tree to send to my children, I discovered something new and even taller growing there.  There is now a huge and hideous 5G telecomms mast sprouting amid the Autumn splendour.

Our neighbours have been fighting this excrescence, although Nigel and I were a little ambivalent since we would appreciate better phone reception. 

There is probably Somebody’s Law that where Residents’ Associations are strong, phone masts are few and far between. 

However, there’s a rumour that instead of supporting a variety of different networks, this new mast will serve only one, and one none of us uses at that.  If such proves to be the case, it will be very sad indeed as even more 5G masts will need to be built, and we shall not be the only ones with an unwelcome addition to our Autumn treescape.

The Toilet Slime Incident

 

At the moment, when we think about our personal safety, we think of hand gel & face masks.

So it took me by surprise to find myself lying flat on my back at the bottom of some steps.  Nigel and I were having a half term break, walking near Falmouth.  My boots were very muddy and when I spotted the steps, I thought I’d go down to the river to get the worst off.  I noted with interest the strongly built home-made handrail.  However, I did not hold onto it.  I realised only as I described an arc through the air that this rail had been a sign that the steps were extremely slippery.

It had all happened so quickly that Nigel thought I had disappeared into thin air. 

‘I’m down here’ I called, hollowly.

Bruise on bottom and on elbow.

Two days later, we walked from Malpas along the Tresillian River.  I was now much more alert and successfully negotiated at speed a narrow path slick with puddles, lumpy with tree roots and blocked by fallen pines. 

On the way back, I decided to use the public loo at St Clements.  Set on a level concrete platform, it should have presented no hazard.  However as I turned sharply to enter, I felt the now familiar sensation of flying through the air. 

On close inspection (eye level, in fact) I could see the area was covered in green algae and was beyond slippery.

Bruise on knee and same elbow.

This time Nigel was at hand to haul me to my feet.

‘At least the last fall was sort-of wholesome and open-air,’ he opined, ‘Not like this time - slipping in toilet slime.’

Which I believe is known as ‘adding insult to injury.’

 

Lend your support to the campaign to save Symondshyde Woods

http://www.save-symondshyde.co.uk/

Climate and Ecological Emergency Bill – please help your planet

Please follow the links below (which will take you swiftly and easily through to your MP’s email) and ask your MP to support the Climate and Ecological Emergency Bill which will be debated during this session of Parliament.

Find everything you need to take part here: https://digitalrebellion.uk/cee-bill