Annoyingly, the cockerel Tootsie, has discovered that I put out fat balls and bird seeds for the wild ‘uns. He thinks it is great larks to ignore his chicken food and come down to the courtyard in order to avail himself of the finer tidbits of birdie cuisine. He is, as Kenneth Williams might say, bold. Needless to say, the garden birds are not keen on his presence. And I certainly get fed up with chasing him away at regular 12 minute intervals.
However, during the week, and fresh from my triumph of woodshed cleaning, I decided to tackle the laundry. This is mostly because the tidal wave of its contents was spread all over the floor (some people NEVER put things back where they find them, do they, Andy?) making it difficult for the maid a.k.a me to access things like the washing machine, the freezer and the bins containing the cat litter. By 8 a.m, then, I was out there wearing my Hat of Ruthlessness and my Boots of Determination, and by 10.30 I was posting this video clip to His Lordship Malarkey in celebration of finding a floor...
I think I ought to explain the bird poo on the freezer comment. During late summer a couple of young blue tits took to sleeping in the laundry overnight and in their excitement to leave in the morning, would leave a little ‘thank you’ poo. Which would land on the top of the freezer. Not in the freezer, for those of you who might be squeamish about these things. Anyway, it’s all clean now. Hurrah!
During my excavations I discovered the bird feeders we used last year and then were flung willy-nilly into the laundry after bird feeding season ended. Which it does, in my book. I don’t hold with this ‘feed the birds all year round’ malarkey. Can’t afford it. They can find their own sustenance during the warmer months. Of course, should snow arrive in June I’ll be out there with emergency supplies, but until then, les voisins (is that French for ‘birds’? If it isn’t, it is now) are on their own.
Anyway, now I have scuppered Tootsie’s plans to become the most gargantuan cockerel on the planet by scoffing on fat balls and bird seed by popping the fat balls in the fat ball holder and the bird seed in the bird seed holder. And hanging them on high where, unless he is VERY resourceful and has a set of crampons and a climbing rope, he will be unable to plunder the contents. The only problem with the bird seed holder is that the great tits are picky about the seed they want and will FLING unwanted seed onto the ground with wild abandon in search of their top seed of choice. Luckily, the two resident collared doves are less picky and are very obliging about hoovering up the scatterings.
I managed to get this photo this morning of the fat ball holder in action. I’m sorry it’s not great quality, but I take photos on my iPad for the sheer convenience. Otherwise I would have to find my proper camera, try and remember how to use it, then go through all the faff of transferring the photos onto my iPad. And at the moment, I really can’t be arsed.
However, during the week, and fresh from my triumph of woodshed cleaning, I decided to tackle the laundry. This is mostly because the tidal wave of its contents was spread all over the floor (some people NEVER put things back where they find them, do they, Andy?) making it difficult for the maid a.k.a me to access things like the washing machine, the freezer and the bins containing the cat litter. By 8 a.m, then, I was out there wearing my Hat of Ruthlessness and my Boots of Determination, and by 10.30 I was posting this video clip to His Lordship Malarkey in celebration of finding a floor...
During my excavations I discovered the bird feeders we used last year and then were flung willy-nilly into the laundry after bird feeding season ended. Which it does, in my book. I don’t hold with this ‘feed the birds all year round’ malarkey. Can’t afford it. They can find their own sustenance during the warmer months. Of course, should snow arrive in June I’ll be out there with emergency supplies, but until then, les voisins (is that French for ‘birds’? If it isn’t, it is now) are on their own.
Anyway, now I have scuppered Tootsie’s plans to become the most gargantuan cockerel on the planet by scoffing on fat balls and bird seed by popping the fat balls in the fat ball holder and the bird seed in the bird seed holder. And hanging them on high where, unless he is VERY resourceful and has a set of crampons and a climbing rope, he will be unable to plunder the contents. The only problem with the bird seed holder is that the great tits are picky about the seed they want and will FLING unwanted seed onto the ground with wild abandon in search of their top seed of choice. Luckily, the two resident collared doves are less picky and are very obliging about hoovering up the scatterings.
I managed to get this photo this morning of the fat ball holder in action. I’m sorry it’s not great quality, but I take photos on my iPad for the sheer convenience. Otherwise I would have to find my proper camera, try and remember how to use it, then go through all the faff of transferring the photos onto my iPad. And at the moment, I really can’t be arsed.
Comments
And apparently it's crottes d'oiseaux. So much more romantic than bird droppings? We live in the wrong country Denise.
As for living in the wrong country, Jessica, I’m not so sure. I love England for all its beauty, traditions, idiosyncrasies and eccentricities. We have Shakespeare and castles, the best films and literature, tolerance in bucketloads, and charity and compassion. I’ve never seriously considered being anywhere else. Call me sentimental and patriotic, but England is my kind of gal!