Water Beneath

Yesterday They held a conference by the pond. The rather pretty yellow marsh marigold has been squashed and They seemed to feel Myself was the culprit. (Impossible - It sits in the water and there is Absolutely No Way I would ever trust My dignity to standing on anything even half as unstable.) He hobbled round the edge to see if there was any incriminating evidence but found nothing apart from one of Fred's feathers.

One of the baby blackbirds wasn't as intelligent as Myself and tried landing on a lily pad. The inevitable happened and it had an unexpected and very splashy bath.

OLAHF Was Nearly Done Too

OLAHF finally succumbed to curiosity and went to view His new floor in the workshop. And only just made it outside again. Popped in silently through the hole in the back wall just as He dropped the final stone slab in place. Luckily for OLAHF the slab missed it. Unluckily for Him it landed on His foot.

For a large hairy mog (So sorry, highly well-bred Norwegian cat with all the pedigree papers to prove it) OLAHF can't half shift when it needs to.

After She had tended to His wounds He spent a long time clearing up after OLAHF had barged into the trays of small bits and pieces He had sorted out from the first scene of carnage.

Nearly Done

Our chickens have stopped laying. Can't help but wonder if it isn't the effect of the bbq remains.

For a couple of days He has been ferrying barrow loads of soil from the back of the allotment to fill in the rat holes under the floor of His workshop. 'Tis now almost done and well hammered down. Most surprisingly He refused any help from Myself, so stayed outside and watched the baby robins through a crack in the wooden wall. 4 of them and all equally ugly.

TB Attacked

Cannot believe it but the BBC (Baby Bantam Cockerel) which is all of 7 inches high, had a tussle with TB - and won. TB didn't mean any harm. It just wanted to see what the little black female was doing and lo and behold! without warning and from behind the artichokes, the BBC attacked. Noisy little thing, and if TB is to be believed, has very sharp claws and a surprisingly powerful beak. TB has a very sore head with a few puncture wounds and an extremely dented pride.

The little black female was just having a dust bath in His onions.

Not Hungry

Can't say for sure whether Myself will ever be hungry again after the bbq. Think They feel the same - Were intending to finish what was left last night but simply didn't fancy it. (Just as well as They were last in line to try out those bits. After the rats.) Fed it to the chickens which were delighted.

The great tits which have been shouting their fluffy little heads off for the last few days have all disappeared. Were last seen lined up along a clematis twig just outside their house. In various stages of feathering - Smallest one is still all spiky with no tail. Went over to assist but they all flew away. Even the tiny one: Lurched and fluttered a bit but made it to the top of the fence where it landed with a gentle thud. Didn't seem worth the bother of climbing up.

BBQ

They organised a Big BBQ for Family and Friends. And hit just the right moment between morning and evening rain. He and SOFWLUTR and HWL did all the cooking. Not the work, the fun bits - The cooking. She and TWWLUTR did the all the preparations the day before. (But He paid for it. Doesn't know just how much yet though.) Myself was allowed to help. Very yummy: Chicken breast (lime & coconut), sausages (assorted with smokey bbq sauce), rib eye steak (to die for), and venison (even more so. She had marinated it in wine with herbs).

Lots of other uninteresting bits like salads appeared on the day and were arranged on the garden tables. And various breads. SOFWLUTR put them on top of the bbq lid to warm up and then found some had disappeared. Was discovered under a bush with a robin one end and a blackbird the other both tugging hard. He tore both ends off to neaten it up, brushed it down and put back with the rest.

She got decidedly squiffy and nearly fell in the pond where the white wine had been put to keep cool. Was told very sternly to sit down which (when She had taken an open bottle with Her to share with HWL) She did.

Since Friends had been invited, Myself made sure TB and OLAHF knew they too were welcome. Too much meat makes TB very sick so it hid under the table and gobbled any little bits that came its way. (People above couldn't tell who they were feeding so the ploy worked well. But it was horribly unwell later. Luckily not in My garden.) OLAHF got very tired of waiting to be fed so wandered over to the bbq by the greenhouse and helped itself. Good idea. Myself went and joined in. Some of the pieces (chicken with lime and coconut) weren't so tasty so we left those and concentrated on the steak and venison. When He came back over to get more He wasn't awfully pleased at all the bits on the ground but just like SOFWLUTR tidied them up and put them back on the serving plates.

It all went on well into the evening until the rain started again and everybody went back to their homes. He carried the bottles that were left into the house but just covered up all the remains of the food. Was rather surprised this morning that hardly anything was left. Collected whatever still looked edible and threw the rest away. Myself could have told Him the rats banquetted during the night but He didn't ask. Believe They intend to eat the leftovers this evening.

Myself is incredibly glad She will never know the half of it.

Investigations

TB came in through the hole in the back wall to investigate His old workshop. Went in clean as clean and came out rather dirtier. Shame. The geriatric old beagle had been looking quite nice after its recent visit to the Pooch Parlour. (Myself had taken great care to perch on a cleanish bit of emptied shelf. On the other side from the robin.)

Much of the Stuff in there has now been cleared out and He is also investigating inside. The stone slabs on the floor are intact but one is distinctly sunken into the rat diggings. (The one the metal lathe was standing on.) In order to fill the (very big) hole He had to empty the wheelbarrow which has been full for some time - And in which one of the now-homeless rats had taken refuge - and push it out to the messy part of the allotment. There to dig some soil to put in the hole when it stops raining.

She remains horribly huffy about the sick in the carpet and spent ages rubbing it with disinfectant to remove the smell. At least that keeps Her from being equally annoyed about all His Stuff now residing all over the house.

Hopefully What Gets Into Carpets Will Come Out Again.

Was right again. Naturally. Total upheaval of stomach contents (4 smallish rats, a snack of tuna in jelly, few kitty bikkies, and some water from the fish tank in the kitchen) which were spread over a large part of Their bed, down the stairs and on the mat by the front door. She went and got Him from inside what's left of His workshop as clearing up things like that makes Her feel sick too.

Unfortunately He didn't quite get where it all was and trod it into the stair carpet. Going up and also down again. She screamed. Several times. And again when She realised He'd put a couple of rusty sword blades on the living room floor. (Pale green carpet.) Went and rang up someone to come steam clean asap. Then went and lay down for a while. On the sofa.

Upheavals

Is feeling horribly sick. Ate 4 small(ish) rats made homeless by the upset in His workshop. Need to go lie down.

They have started to try clearing up the mess in His shed. Old lathe is coming out through the hole in the back wall - in dismantled pieces. Plus various things, some of which He had utterly forgotten He had. (She is not particularly enamoured of the fact that much of this fascinating - and grubby - Clutter is being lovingly carried into the Music Room which will soon be full up.)

The robin nesting in the shed has accepted the upheavals and carries on feeding its brood regardless of what goes on beneath it.

Oh Dear

Oh dear. Myself was correct (of course) about the rats beneath His workshop. Sadly, had not realised the full extent of their diggings. A terrifyingly loud crash late yesterday afternoon announced the fall of His large and heavy old lathe. Followed by some very rude words and comments about all the rats running around His feet and a bellow for Her to come and help. Apparently the stone slabs on the floor had been burrowed beneath and could no longer support the weight of the lathe which now blocked His exit from the shed. As She pointed out (extremely reasonably although it didn't improve His temper) if He couldn't move it She wasn't going to have much luck. After a great deal of discussion He decided to cut a hole in the back wall (wooden planking) as it was the only way out. This was duly done with only minimal damage to His apricot tree which grows outside. Now He says He has a bad back from having to bend so low to get out. (She refrained from telling Him He should have sawed the hole a bit bigger.)

Seed Eaters

The hole by the corner of His shed is most definitely In Use. The entrance is well worn and clean and when Myself looked closely there is trail leading down the side of the greenhouse and to the lawn under the bird feeder. Events will prove it but Myself Suspects Rats.

The BOF (Big Old Fred) ushers 2 Fredettes in every morning and waits by the path to the end of garden while they feed and drink from the pond. Every so often it reminds them to get a move on by shouting, going up on tip toes and flapping hard. Doesn't always have the desired effect when they are specially hungry and it has to round them up.

There is also a Very Small Fred (VSF) which is submissive and terrified of BOF. Hides in the plants where it can't be seen and darts out for a mouthful of seed before scuttling back. A small fracas occurred yesterday when it arrived in the garden and rushed into the plants as usual: BOF was there already. Big squawks and much shaking of bushes and VSF erupted upwards. BOF emerged looking smug and extremely red around the gills.

The Search Continues

Investigated the fascinating sounds from beneath the floor of His workshop as best Myself could yesterday. Hard to hear clearly as the concrete slabs on the floor have an old carpet on top but is Totally Certain there is Something under there. Had a search in the corners (What a Mess!) among the dust and spiders and unmentionables but could find no way to get beneath.

All very tiring so lay down for a rest. Extremely short rest as He trod hard on My tail. (Why can't He look where He is treading? She has complained about it often enough - You would think He could remember by now.) A satisfying snap at His ankle made the pain a little more bearable before Myself went outside.

Was rewarded by the discovery of a large, well-used hole behind the door.

Noises Under and a Frog Under

Interesting sounds from under the floor of His workshop. Scratchings. Diggings. Rustlings. Squeakings. Shall go investigate.

Started to rain all of a sudden yeterday afternoon so Myself searched for cover among the slightly overgrown plants. Frogs of all sizes and colours had already got in there. Pinged all over the place and made it difficult to place My delicate paws anywhere. Finally found a dryish spot and sat down. And stood up again very rapidly to allow the grandaddy of all frogs to remove itself from underneath. Gave Myself a really nasty look as it hopped and flopped away.

Worms

Was intending to help out with the feeding of one or more of the baby blackbirds but the parents were Not Friendly. Chuttered and then swooped down rather too close to My head. There's no understanding some bird brains.

One of the males (the tatty overworked one) is getting more and more friendly with Him. Every time He goes out to the allotments it appears and follows Him at a distance of about 3 feet. Opens and shuts its yellow beak hopefully until He digs a worm for it. Yesterday the robin joined in too. Until it tried to fly off with a worm that was frankly Too Big and Heavy. Crash landed and the blackbird nipped in and stole the worm. Robin went off in a huff.

Incomprehensible and (Probably) Too Much Gin

Is rather later than usual today - Having passed an entirely useful day watching ONN's ratty little dogs attempting to burrow beneath the wire that now surrounds their garden.

Incomprehensible. When the wire wasn't there neither of them was particularly bothered about getting out. Just wriggled through a hole if it happened to appear but otherwise perfectly happy to stay inside the garden. Having watched yesterday's workmen 'tis now a different story: And they are trying everything they know (Which is Not a Lot. But what can you expect from 2 hairy little yapping horrors with longer paperwork about their breeding than the length of their own skinny backs?) to dig out.

Since there is not a lot left of her back garden anyway (thanks to ONN and the chainsaw) WOONN cooed adoringly at their efforts. Until she remembered her own mauled chicken that is, whereupon she nipped inside and returned with a big G & T. And the gin bottle to freshen it up with.

At which point Myself returned to My own garden to discover 2 families of baby blackbirds in residence in the fruit trees. How do the adults know whether they are feeding their own offspring or someone else's?

Trepidation Justified

Trepidation was just about right. ONN wielded the chain saw most of the weekend. With many comments and helpful hints from WOONN. (Think he got a trifle irritated by them in view of what he said on a couple of occasions.) Their garden is transformed - and not altogether in an artistic way. The victorian laurel has had its skirts cut up to about 6 feet and its top lopped off too. Similarly several other plants - With varying degrees of success. Others have been cut down altogether and one or two left as they were. Consequently the garden is full of black holes in which nothing is growing and with odd things sticking up like disjointed fingers. Don't think she likes it much. (Myself forsees Big Expenditure on specialists to put it to rights.)

Several workmen arrived early this morning but not to assist with the garden. Brought with them a big digger and made a trench around the fences. Put in doggy proof wire. (She remembers the chicken that was attacked and is determined the 2 dogs will not get out Do It Again.)

A Certain Amount of Trepidation

ONN has borrowed a chain saw for the weekend. We await the outcome with trepidation. Particularly after the incident with the weeping salix and gilded picture frame.

WOONN is keeping watch over her squitty chickens. (Myself can't think of many more objectionable pastimes. But there you go. Bet she rushes into the garden the minute he starts up the chain saw though.)

Our asparagus is doubling in size every day: Can almost hear it growing. She has spent hours looking for new recipes. The latest is to roast the asparagus with an anchovy and wrapped in parma ham. Sounds good - especially if They don't like it and offer it to Myself.

Oh Dear

OLAHF had had enough of the scent of lavender that emanated from its newly washed fur. Went and rolled in the dry earth. 'Tis clean and fluffy no longer, but definitely does not smell of lavender. TB is also pleased and can now snooze next to OLAHF without having to wipe its nose constantly. Rather a shame it rolled on HWL's (Husband With a Limp) peas though. Are somewhat squashed as OLAHF is a large and heavy moggy.

WOONN gave her new chickens too much spinach. Which they ate. Of course. Have consequently stopped laying but are leaving disgusting yellow poops all over the place. Oh dear.

Lavender and The Explanation

OLAHF's fur is even more fluffy and sticky-outy than usual. And there is an extremely strong aroma of lavender when it moves. Was terribly glad to see Myself and TB late yesterday afternoon (though TB was entirely taken aback by the overwhelming smell and kept rubbing its nose with a paw.)

TWWLUTR and HWL (Husband With a Limp) came over for drinks last evening. Even after 3 bottles of wine HWL was still muttering and complaining about That Wretched Mog (aka OLAHF. Doesn't he know about OLAHF's many pedigree papers or doesn't he care?) which had apparently fallen into a big unused water tank on the allotment. And got stuck inside. HWL had to fetch a step ladder to get in and rescue OLAHF which since the tank had several inches of accumulated muck and rain water was not a pleasant undertaking. Especially at 5.30 am.

Hence the eerie moaning during the night and the early morning clanking.

Totally Inconsiderate

An eerie, echoing sound kept Myself awake much of the night. Hollow, moaning and as of an animal in utmost despair. So very inconsiderate. Shall have to have a long snooze beneath the cherry tree to make up for all the lost sleep.

Almost at break of day (5.30am. Much much too early and in consequence causing Myself to lose yet more sleep) TWWLUTR and her husband with a limp were outside, wandering around and positively bellowing for OLAHF. Kept it up for a very long time then made some clanking sounds and all went quiet. Equally inconsiderate. If people must do these things they should at least keep the noise down.

Rid Myself of some of the irritation by snarling at some baby birds through the conservatory window. Very loudly.

Hysteria. Twice.

Hysteria yesterday early morning. WOONN found the new chickens had each laid an egg. Squeaking, oohing, ahhing, dancing and jumping around, cooing and admiring. Hhmm.

They went for pre-lunch drinks and nibbles with ONN. (Naturally I wandered down the lane too. Sat just out of sight under the hedge where Myself could keep an eye on both the baby birds above and Them in the garden.) And were asked Their opinion on the over-grown garden. Suggestions were bandied to and fro, and most involved a fairly hefty amount of cutting back and digging up.

Late afternoon there was more hysteria from WOONN but of the distressed sort this time. Apparently ONN had taken it upon himself to prune a beautiful weeping salix: Cut a square window in the front. (Why??) His suggestion to her that they hang an ornate gilded picture frame on it and call it Modern Art was met with a scathing reply.

Chasing Things Is So Exhausting

They shouldn't have shut Myself in all day: If She had given Me a nicer breakfast there would have been no need to leave some of it on the sofa cushions in the conservatory. And being sick would not have prompted a big gummy fur ball. (Also left in the conservatory.) And My tail would not have lashed at His seedlings. (Rather a large mess that. Took hours to clean My beautiful tail.) All because They wouldn't let Myself assist the tiny baby birds which can't fly properly as yet.

In to My garden first thing yesterday. But the baby birds had managed to get to the top of the trees so had no need of My help. Parents made a lot of noise as Myself walked past - Must be tyring to thank Me for My concern.

ONN's wife (WOONN) has acquired 3 chickens. And the biggest, poshest, swankiest house for them Myself has ever seen: 2 storeys, wonderfully finished off with counter sunk screws (brass) and painted (delicate green,) ramp (which lets up and down by means of an ingenious pulley with bright blue plaited string,) polished nesting box, brand new (expensive of course) water container and feed tray, and 4 carrying handles. The new inmates spent most of yesterday upstairs kicking out the wood shavings down the ramp. Then scratching the grass to get rid of the mess. Only succeeded in making it worse. When she came out to murmur endearments all they heard was a gasp and a bellow for ONN's My Man to come clear it up and move the house. Had to get ONN out as well as the house is much too heavy for 2 people to move. During the course of this the chickens all escaped. T'was most entertaining to watch the 3 of them trying to round up 3 birds which did not want to go back to their posh house and really only wished they could be left alone to scratch in the earth and have dust baths and other generally mucky things that chickens like.

Was exhausted by all that chasing around so went to snooze in the conservatory. Sofa was still damp from where She had washed it so settled down beneath the cherry tree instead.

Is Not a Felon

Feel like a common criminal - a veritable feline felon - after yesterday's cruel treatment. Early on, straight after breakfast (not nice meat without even a hint of jelly - Will She never learn?) They shut the door to the music room so Myself couldn't get outside. Was reduced to sitting in the conservatory, watching My garden. No way could I hope to help the tiny, little, tail-less cotton-woolly baby brown birds fluttering and crash landing all over the place. (One 2 days ago, 3 yesterday.) Had been so hoping to assist. Especially when they disappeared into the undergrowth and the parents waited anxiously, grub firmly held in beak, waiting to ram it down a bright yellow throat.

Retaliated by allowing My beautiful tail to lash at His seedlings and by leaving part of My breakfast on the sofa cushions. And a gummy fur ball by the door.

Thwup

An interesting addition to My garden: Miniscule little bird with fluffy feathers, no tail and a very insistent voice. Follows one of the small brown birds everywhere and then sits and flutters. The slightly larger one charges around at breakneck speed finding grubs and things which it then pokes and rams down the throat of the tiny one.

It definitely needs flying lessons. Currently hurls itself upwards and then flaps and flutters desperately as it descends. Doesn't seem to have any control of where it ends up and has already crash landed several times - in a plant, on the trunk of a tree, straight through the open-work wooden panelling by the green house. (Made a gentle almost un-noticeable thwup as it hit the glass and disappeared downwards.) Looks like a small ball of pale brown cotton wool in a breeze.

Shall have to go see if Myself can do anything to assist.

Affronted

Is Not Speaking to Him. That clod of earth hurt. Shall go later and invite TB, OLAHF and all the Freds & Fredettes to come party on His allotment.

Is cross with Her too. (Newly washed grey summer trousers were for a Special Event next week and She was livid.) Flapped a tea towel in My face.

Instead of Our chickens (which are not now let out due to the damage they cause. Maybe they could join the party too. Must consider how to manage it) He now feeds worms to the blackbird when He digs. Takes His camera out and snaps it more often than He digs. Has dozens of photos of blackbird wearing a moustache of worms.