A busy weekend

This cute little mutt is the latest recruit to the job of 'barge dog' on the Sailing Barge Cambria. Named Robin, he's in the temporay care of the owners of old friend Kes (mainly-white JR). Very soft and friendly, Robin is here being made a fuss of on the fore deck of the SB Cambria (now approaching completion) by our weekend visitor, Mum's chum Maisie.

It was quite a busy weekend all in all, especially for Dad who had to lead 2 separate deer walks round Challock Forest in search of the elusive Fallow Deer. We are not alone this year in thinking that the famous rut is either very slow in starting, or is much less well attended at our particular rutting stand than normal. Our chum Rona, who lives close by the Forest agrees with this - she heard the start of it a week and a half ago, but where she'd expect it by now to have built up into a fine old crescendo, there is still only sporadic and half hearted noise.

Dad's two walks both saw a few deer, and heard the occasional battle and roar, but saw nothing of the normal milling groups of females, and the off-stand sub-battles between male pretenders. We are all wondering whether 'our' stand is being abandoned in favour of another location, possibly as a result of too much interference by trail-bikers, dog walkers (or even deer photographers!). What ever the reason, Dad still has not got a decent 2010 photograph to show off.

Meanwhile we had our house-guest, Maisie-Lou, so there was plenty of fun and games around the house, lots of fussing for us and walks, plenty of eating and drinking for the humans, and the town carnival on Saturday night, which musters outside in the street to much noise and light. It also involves numerous 'Carnival Queen' babes looking very cold on their floats in the chilly wind, but these days their attire involves thick warm looking furry robes akin toi dressing gowns, so they wrap up well and keep smiling.

Diamond appears along with reprobate dog Rags at one stage, and Dad also takes Maisie and Mum for a look round the barge.

It was a good and enjoyable weekend.

Deefs

Gardening Blitz

We are on hand to help today in a major gardening blitz, which sees the garden cleared of old, long-since-pecked-clean seed heads and other tall dead stuff, opening up the view and reminding us we actually have a reasonable size garden (25' by 100').

It's long overdue. Mum has pruned the roses and attacked the hollyhocks and old sedum heads etc in the upper "circle" garden, while Dad has cleared Californian poppy and yellow horned poppy foliage, magnolia leaves and died back Erigeron from the gravel out front, plus chopped up the old Christmas tree, and cut away all the sport suckers from the base of the lilac, and the old stems of purple loose strife and asparagus.

Finally they joined up to cut down the tall canes/plumes of the two big ornamental grasses down to 6 inches or so. This act is the real garden opener, because these two tall tufts create a very obvious visible barrier between top garden and what we call the "ha-ha" bank, below which is the pond.

Plenty of time, though, to sit back and chill on the terrace, which was reasonably warm. The pair of robins show their appreciation by swooping down on the disturbed soil and flitting about picking up spring-awakened grubs and creepy crawlies. Mum and Dad are hopeful that the robins will nest.

They tell some awful story of me as a puppy killing a robin which flew into the greenhouse and stunned itself, one of the then breeding pair with a half built nest, which was then abandoned. They have not nested in the garden since. I don't remember this but if it's true then it's probably in this blog somewhere. Think I'd not get away with it again, though, so maybe I'll avoid robins in 2010.

Deefski

Acts and Omissions

2 days ago I gave kill scores for all three of us.

How your sins will find you out - I am shamefully reminded that that score card is not complete.

Look back far enough in this blog (April 2007 should do it, or just look for the posting called "What a difference a day makes") and you'll find reference to a completely unfounded allegation that I once killed a robin. Worse, It is said that it was one of the breeding pair setting up to breed that year in Dad's new nest box among the clematis tangle. Me? I don't remember that at all, so "they" must be making it up.

We are also reminded that Megan's score should include a certain Irish (Silverwood) Hamster. There on a visit before I was born, Megan locked onto watching the family hamster in one of those modern cages made of transparent plastic tubes. Trans-fixed, she would not be distracted at any price, her little brain slowly sussing out that if she were to nip the tea-towel between her teeth on which the cage rested on the coffee table, and lean backwards with enough force..... she might just pull the cage down on top of herself with enough force that the plastic tubes would burst open and........

Ah dear.

Deefski

PS - and yes, Mr Silverwood. The "half a squirrel" kills were just a team effort with H and M grabbing either end of the same squirrel. It was still one body when it expired, just doubly chewed.

Gimme a break! I'm a Terrier!

What a difference a day makes

Look at that cute pic to the right of your screen. Does that look like a wicked, bad girl to you? What a difference a day makes. In a plot twist worthy of a Kubrick film, I have gone from poor sympathetic character to the villain of the peice! One day lovingly carried to the vet because I was really really ill, the next yelled at and scowled at! Where's the justice in that?

Dad came home from work and the two of us trotted down the garden to check on the progress of seedlings in the green house. Bounding into the greenhouse, we panicked a small bird, which shot upwards, banged off the glass and fell, stunned into the patch of beans. 1000's of years of breeding took over and one of those tragedies that happen so fast you can only watch in horror exploded into reality.

I shot forward and grabbed small brid, who screamed. Dad roared and lunged forward, scruffing me, lifting me 2 feet off the ground. I yelped (well, no-one's done that to me since I was the size of that same photo!) and dropped the bird. Dad saw straight away it was a robin, but it was too late. He could only hold it gently while it expired in the palm of his hand.

He was not happy with me. They are mad keen on this "gardening for wildlife" stuff and the local robins had been singing and prospecting for nest sites, and Mum and Dad both had hopes. Philosophical now though - it's what terriers do, he says. It was small, squeaking, unidentified and cornered in the greenhouse on the floor. Just a rat with a red breast and brown feathers. I'm not pushing this line of argument at the moment though!

Anyway, the nasty man has got us all back. We were fed a small scrumptious chunk of cat food each tonight, and as our molars crunched down on the juicy morsel and we swallowed, our brains all went "crunched down????" . Megan suspects we may have been wormed. It's an assault without consent! Referee!

Disgraced "Murderess"
Deefer