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Archive for March, 2015

. . . and There’s More

Ewe And Her Lambs

Ewe And Her Lambs

“Yes. These are both mine. Stand up nicely children, the man’s going to take your photograph. Yes, yes, dear, I’ll explain it all later. Just stand still and do one of your pretty little smiles. There, you see that was really so easy, wasn’t it?

“They are twins, of course, but obviously they aren’t going to be identical twins. I think I’m quite glad about that now. In a way I was, sort of, hoping that they would be. You know, it would be quite nice to think that I was the only one who could tell them apart, and that sort of thing, but, well, we’ll just have to wait and see. Children do grow so fast at this age, don’t they?

“Yes, they’re being very good for Mummy, aren’t you Darlings? Being good for Mummy, Dear. Staying close to me and not running off all over the field. Yes, as I was saying, with all this lovely new Spring grass, I don’t doubt that they’ll soon shoot up and it won’t be nearly so easy to know who is who any more. Meanwhile, I just count myself lucky to have twins that I can easily tell apart.

“And of course, the difference in size will come in really handy when it comes to hand-me-downs.”

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An All-Nighter

New Born Lamb

New Born Lamb

We arrived at the T junction to find it blocked by a very large truck. Huge bags of animal feed were being swung off the back into the farmyard. Naturally we stopped to watch. Jackie and The Dog soon became bored with the marvels of modern mechanisation and moved off. I stayed, because I didn’t want them to think that they’re unloading was, in any way, of no account or boring.
Eventually, the truck driver, after a demonstration of his considerable expertise in turning the very large vehicle in the awkward space of the junction, left and I exchanged a few words about the quantity of animal feed, and expected increase in the size of the flock, with the guy who had been driving the fork lift truck.
“We’ve started lambing already.” offered my informant – so off I went to peer into the nuances of the ovine maternity process. As you can see from the photo the rooms are small, with no TV or Wifi, never-the-less they are provided with all the important accoutrements – but you’re probably more interested in the youngster – safely delivered in the early hours of the morning. He’s up and exploring, even though he (and everyone else) had very little sleep last night.

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A Splash of Colour

Jay by the bird table

Jay by the bird table

The wretched gout has me struggling to even limp around at the moment – so I haven’t walked The Dog or taken any pictures for these last two weeks. Jackie has been on Dog Walking duty, so I thought it would be only fair to use one of her pictures. As the bird table and feeders fall within her area of responsibility, she most often takes photos of the birds that visit there. The picture I chose is a recent photo of one of the two Jays we see occasionally in the garden.

They are a member of the crow family and they have the fine singing voice common to Corvus – a penetrating, raucous screech. Like Piglet and unlike Tigger, Jays like acorns best. They do share the intelligence of their fellow crows and will often spy on squirrels as they bury their winter cache, and then remember where to come to dig them up, for themselves, at a later date.

This may just be what this guy was doing. The low wall is the front of the bank that holds our oak trees in check and stops them from stomping all over the garden. The soil, just there, is soft deep leaf mould, in the autumn the acorns are scattered liberally in this area.

I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he/she isn’t doing a little pre-planned pilfering.

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Seasonal Riches

Crocus By The Wayside

Crocus By The Wayside

Now, King Croesus lived round 600BC
(or maybe he’s just part of mythology)
he attacked the Persians and, being fabulously wealthy,
thought he’d check first with the Oracle at Delphi.
The Oracle said “A great kingdom will fall.”
“Oh,” said Croesus, “is that all?”
He charged off into battle – and was defeated,
because, you see, the Persians cheated.
The Greeks disbanded when winter came,
but the Persians didn’t – and ruined the game
So the moral is, even for the incredibly rich,
now and then Life’s just a bitch.

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