Of Cats and Butterflies and Trees

Of Cats and Butterflies and Trees

Our kittens are growing fast. Still lanky of leg and long of body they are extremely lively and very vocal. Each kitten has adopted a different member of the family though they are all very affectionate and demand a lot of attention from whoever happens to be available for a good purring. Isambard’s favourite person is Barry and Jellicoe favours me. Herschel’s chosen companion is Bertie. Actually, they all like Bertie.

The morning ritual involves the kittens calling as soon as they hear our voices. They do not, as yet, sleep in our bedroom – the dogs deserve a place of sanctuary!

Barry emerges to ecstatic miaous and purrs and then he calls Bertie out. Immediately the kittens flock to our golden boy and rub all round him, curling their tails about his body and pushing their faces against his and Bertie loves it.

Recently we have had weather warm enough to encourage us to open the patio door. Across it there is a mesh screen to allow fresh air in and prevent kittens going out. Soon we shall erect a fence within the garden to enable the little boys access to the Great Outdoors. 

The Purr…fect Cat Fence has been delivered from the States and awaits our endeavours to assemble it. First, though, shrubs and trees in the garden have had to be lopped and trimmed so that adventurous felines do not find a way to escape into the even Greater Outdoors. 

The most drastic operation has involved the slaughter pruning of our holly tree. 

No longer can the starlings and blue tits, blackbirds and thrushes rely on its prickly cover to protect them from the attentions of the sparrowhawk.

In the course of all this woodwork gardening Barry discovered that our garden shredder was not up to the job of reducing the extraneous limbs and branches to mulch and spent several happy hours researching the best machine for the job.  We were surprised when it was delivered to see how big – and heavy – it was. ‘It’s a big bugger, innit?’ we said to each other in our best Mummerset accents. 

Naturally the box it came in had to be explored . . . 

 . . . as did the shredder basket.

It is very efficient and reasonably quiet. We haven’t quite got to the stage of looking for things to cut down so that we can use it but that time is not far off, I suspect.

We shan't see any of these this year! 

I noticed a solitary holly blue butterfly disconsolately circling the remains of the tree, wondering where she was now going to lay her eggs. I hope I’m sure the tree will recover and send forth new green shoots. 

However, visiting redwings will be sorely disappointed when they fly in to feast on holly berries in the winter – there will be none this year.

We are wondering how many times the brothers will fall in the pond. My guess is probably only once, unless they decide they like swimming. The bird feeders will have to be moved to a spot beyond the fence. It means we shall not be able to observe them at quite such close quarters but at least we will remain innocent of putting them on the menu for the boys!

The sun has disappeared again so the fence will remain in its component parts in the garage and the cats will have to remain content with gazing at the garden from the safety of indoors.

I hope the Saga of the Cat Fence will be a short one – I have my doubts, though;-) 

I am linking this post to 'Camera Critters'. Thank you, Misty, for hosting this meme.

Roe deer

The doe is watching the dogs pass by

The deer in our local forest are roe deer, the most numerous of Britain’s native deer, and at this time of the year their coats have changed from the dark grey or brown of winter to a rich russet. It is quite usual for us to see one or two roe deer when we take the dogs walking, particularly towards evening. The deer are watchful but not easily startled, only taking flight if one of the dogs gets within twenty yards. Then they bound away and melt into the trees. 

Here she's watching Barry, trying to understand what he's doing

 We have often seen deer lying down in patches of sunlight. This gives them an opportunity to chew the cud. Usually they lie where they have been feeding only if they feel secure. One of the places we have seen them is about a hundred yards from the path we follow.

It's difficult to get buck and doe together in one frame!

In the last three weeks, since late August, we have regularly seen a young buck and doe. They are keeping company because this is the breeding season. The rut takes place from July to September. Does usually bear twins which are born the following spring, between April and June. In exceptionally good conditions a doe may have triplets. 

He looks as though he's saying, 'What are you looking at?'

Roe deer are the only deer that delay implantation so that the young are born when conditions are favourable, in that the weather is more clement and there is sufficient food and fresh plant growth. Others among the one hundred or so mammals that delay implantation (embryonic diapause) include stoats, badgers and rodents.

Spotting them is sometimes difficult . . . 

Can you see him now?

Here he is lying down 

Moving away unhurriedly

 I found a useful site that shows how to calculate the age of a buck by its antlers and I think ‘our’ buck is a two-year-old.

The antlers are shed each year and unusually for British deer, the roe buck casts and regrows them in the winter when good food is not readily available.

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Our newest dog . . .

Our newest dog, called Clarence, promises to be the best yet. 

He’s obedient, quiet, doesn’t require any exercise or food and is really rather fine to look at.

He’s not as much fun as Bertie, thoughJ 

Can’t quite reach that itch!

Puppy paws!

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Sunday puppies

This is Sunday 28^th August and the puppies’ seventh day in their new homes.

They may be rather confused, particularly Buster, who has travelled from Shropshire to Berkshire to Dorset and back to Berkshire. They were delighted to see each other again on Friday and slept together in a pen in our bedroom last night while Buster’s family went to London. Buster slept until 08:00 and was undisturbed by Bertie wanting to go out at 02:45.

Don't tread on me, Frodo - I'm only little . . .

Buster picks up the water dish to indicate that it is empty!

They had a busy morning playing in the conservatory and the kitchen after breakfast.

Who's biting whom?

After lunch they settled down for a nap. The big dogs are all napping, too. The human adults are feeling quite sleepy!

When you're little there's nothing quite so comforting as sleeping close to another warm body, particularly when it's your sibling.

Peace, perfect peace!

I am linking to 'I Saw Sunday', 'Camera Critters' and 'Pet Pride'.

Camera Critters #175, Pet Pride

Some of my favourite people, two-leggers and four-leggers, met in Somerset last weekend.

Barry, the one who takes the really GOOD photographs on this blog. We celebrated our 44th wedding anniversary yesterday.

Never too big to play with little children's toys!

Left to right: Elliot, Callum, Kiri, Louis

Frodo and Gus - boys together

Eve makes a big fuss of Gus

Tia 

Louis chats to Jenna

Frodo, Gus, Foxy

Marnie takes a rest

The gang!

I'm linking to Camera Critters and Pet Pride. Click on the names to see more lovely photographs across the world.

Camera Critters #172 Hoverflies

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Hoverflies July 2011

Camera Critters, Pet Pride Winston spies a stranger

 The pretty cat that often visits our garden appeared on the conservatory window sill the other morning. S/he is very friendly and would like to come into the house. I'm not sure Winston would welcome that!

'Look, Winston.'

'What?'

 'Hey! Who are you? This is my house.'  

'I’m going. I don't want to argue.'

'Where’s he gone?'

'Oh, he's back again. Hello.'

'I’m not a fighter but it’s a good thing this window’s between us.'

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Winston’s May 2011 blog

Winston here . . . p’rrrrr, p’rrrrr . . .

I haven’t blogged for five months, don’tcha know. Have you missed me?

Akchalee I don’t know what months is. Is it food? I don’t think it can be ‘cos I don’t usually get no food when I blog, just my usual rations which I might tell you is a bit thin at the moment. That’s ‘cos I went to see Kate-the-Vet and after I’d made a BIG fuss of her and she told me I was gorgeous and had wonderful clean teeth she spoilt it by saying I could do with losing just a little bit of weight. Last year Nadia-the-Vet said the same thing and so Mrs Human put me on short rations. I had to catch spiders and flies to make up the difference, don’tcha know.  Do you remember?

Anyway, after a while, everyone (except Mrs H) forgot all about what Nadia-the-Vet said and went back to giving me treats when I asked for them. I ask very nicely and the Humans (except Mrs H) love it and tell me a little won’t hurt. I like it specially when Gillian comes ‘cos she really can’t resist my winning ways and offers to feed me and then she puts lots of food out for me and my tummy gets really stretched – it’s lovely! After that I just sleep and dream for hours and hours.

 Well, this time, Mrs H told Mr H that *I have got to lose weight (she keeps saying that and Mr H just nods and smiles) But she said, ‘I mean it, he’s got to be rationed,’ and Mr H said, ‘But he asks so nicely in the mornings and he really enjoys his bit of chicken/ham/cheese/shrimp/tuna.’ (That’s not all at the same time, course!) In the end he agreed and I was very disappointed, don’tcha know. I thought I had him proply trained. So now he gives me just one little treat and I have to wait for my breakfast before my tummy feels full again.

I tell you, I got so hungry the other night that I opened the cupboard door and dragged out the tube of shrimp treats and a bag of dog biscuits and I tried and tried to open them but I just couldn’t. Course, just before I went to see Kate-the-Vet, Mrs H cut my claws ‘cos I kept getting hooked on things. The other day I got stuck to a cushion and it followed me everywhere. Gus barked, silly boy and Mrs H laughed when she saw me though she tried not to let me see. So course I couldn’t get a good grip on the bag of biscuits.

I’m trying to work out how to get into the fridge now. The Humans have had fridge-raiding cats before so I’m sure I can find a way. I think if I sit and stare at it long enough it will open. I talk to it, too. Watch this space!

The other thing about having blunt claws is that I slide off things. Usually when I stretch up on Mr H’s legs I can hang on but now I just slip off. Never mind, my claws will grow again.

There’s a funny **red thing that appears now and then and I chase it but I can’t never catch it. It’s odd – it don’t smell or make a noise and I don’t know where it goes when it’s not there – or here. Gus don’t know nothing about it, neither and he can’t catch it, too. Mind you, he don’t move as fast as me.

The Humans know how much I love bird-watching so they very kindly moved the bird feeders closer to the house. I spend many a happy hour watching and chittering at the birds. I think they’d like to come and see me, too, don’tcha know, ‘cos several of them have banged on the patio door.

That’s all I’ve got. Be good!

TTFN

(Mrs H: 

* Winston's not very overweight ; he just needs to slim down a little!

**It’s a laser light)

I'm linking to Misty Dawn's Camera Critters and Bozo and his human at Pet Pride.                                            

Camera Critters #160 Six little ducks

We saw six mallards on one of the ponds the other day. They were quacking and reminded me of the song I used to sing with five and six-year-olds.  It’s an odd song, really, because it refers to ‘the one little duck with the feathers on his back’ as though all the other ducks were bald!

Six little ducks that I once knew,

Fat ones, skinny ones they were, too,

But the one little duck with the feathers on his back,

He ruled the others with his quack, quack, quack,

Quack, quack, quack!

He ruled the others with his quack, quack, quack!

Down to the river they would go,

Wibble, wobble, wibble, wobble, to and fro,

But the one little duck with the feathers on his back,

He ruled the others with his quack, quack, quack,

Quack, quack, quack!

He ruled the others with his quack, quack, quack!

Home from the river they would come,

Wibble, wobble, wibble, wobble, ho hum hum,

But the one little duck with the feathers on his back,

He ruled the others with his quack, quack, quack,

Quack, quack, quack!

He ruled the others with his quack, quack, quack!

I'm linking to Camera Critters with this post.

Camera Critters #147, Pets Forever

It's amazing what you can get from Amazon these days!

Opening the box is always exciting.

. . . a glimpse of something warm and furry . . .

I think we should have called Winston 'Amazon'!

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Gus and the airer

Gus has a very long tongue and it seems to lengthen when he's excited - or apprehensive.

It’s easy to forget how young Gus is – just 16 months old. He’s a very exuberant pup and gives the impression that nothing fazes him, apart from the vacuum cleaner. He’s a bold and fearless guard dog, though we know that should any stranger come through the door, Gus would greet him with open paws rather than slavering jaws.

The infamous airer! Gus was convinced it was waiting to pounce.

So it came as a surprise today when the clothes airer spooked him. I have a backlog of washing to dry so decided to supplement the tumble dryer with the airer. There is absolutely no point in hanging the washing in the garden – it wouldn’t dry and would probably be brought in wetter than it went out. The solution Barry found last year in 2009 was hailed with much rejoicing but turned out to be less than satisfactory (slight understatement there!) 

As a refuge for the smaller forms of flying wildlife it was unsurpassed. It was almost a case of standing room only. Much as I admire and am interested in winged beasties, I have no desire to get up close and personal with them, but was forced to confront them as I wrestled the washing from the rotary dryer. Lifting the skirts of the cover to gain access to the laundry was difficult if even a slight breeze was blowing. Eventually, a stronger than usual wind happened along and tore the whirligig from its moorings. So now I have reverted to a naked carousel which is used only when rain isn’t falling.

Today, however, was not such a day. The ground is soggy, the dogs’ paws dig deep; consequently, things with which they come into contact when they come home – mats, chair covers, dog bedding – are soon rejoicing in a new guise, the ‘clean dirt’ look. Mud is ‘clean dirt’ – I leave you to imagine what might be classed as ‘dirty dirt’.

If damp items lie sullenly in laundry baskets too long, anticipating their turn in the drying machine, they sometimes rebel and develop an unwholesome odour. Then they have to be washed again because musty linen smells most unpleasant. Thus the task sometimes seems endless. I do occasionally complete all the washing so that none is left sadly awaiting its moment in the spotlight, its fifteen minutes of fame (actually, that should read ‘its moments in the washing machine, its anything from forty-five to ninety minutes of attention’)  

Gus relaxing during Frodo's ministrations

Anyway, as I was saying, Gus was frightened when the clothes airer appeared. No, it didn’t come stumbling out from the cupboard unaided but had to be wrenched from its lair under the stairs. It’s a harmless piece of equipment but Gus didn’t know that and had to be comforted by Frodo.

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