Recovering from my surprise operation, I've been spending a lot of time watching the wildlife that frequents the garden. I've not much else to do. I'm not allowed to run about and occasionally have to wear a costume to stop me from licking my wound.
We get a variety of birds: from tits to pigeons to crows and magpies. When they're not eating at the dangly feeders, they like to perch on the pergola. They pay for the privilege by dropping tips onto the slabs below. I like to sample the nicer ones (unless the man is about - he chases me away and scoops them up for disposal).
Then we have a squirrel that returns often to bury his winter food in the plant pots and raised bed. I can see where he's left everything and later poke about to smell if they're worth a nibble. Again, the man chases me away. You'd think he didn't want me snacking from nature. To be fair to the squirrel, he's a smart cookie and will often only pretend to bury his nuts, wasting my time and energy trying to dig them up.
Lastly, a cat comes a visiting, attracted by the many birds. I've not yet caught it on camera (or in real life). It lies in wait under the bushes beneath the bird feeders. When one of the small birds comes close it pounces, rips it open then carries the dead bird away. It has a high success rate, which annoys the woman. If she sees it, I'm allowed to shoo it away with my barking. I've developed a gruff growl just for such occasions. But only for such occasions. I've been warned the neighbours over the back fence have sensitive ears and a penchant for complaining. They're even immune to my gorgeous looks, which was previously unheard of.
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