A humorous look at bodily ills and daily woes, and tips from someone who has suffered everything from arthritis to athlete's foot.
Sunday, 10 February 2008
If you read my post of 10th January, you'll know the sad story of how Flad killed a song thrush. Today this thrush spend a whole two hours on the lawn. It didn't do much, mainly stood and listened, its head first on one side, then the other. I think it is the mate of Flad's victim and it was looking, listening, waiting and hoping, all in vain. It looks terribly sad, doesn't it. Really lost and alone, and its behaviour certainly wasn't normal. In fact, I thought it might be injured but when I sent Mr G out to investigate, it flew off into a tree. I hope it won't make a habit of hanging around on the lawn. Flad has obviously developed a taste for thrush and I really want this one to find another mate and breed. In safety. I.e., in somebody else's garden. But not next door. They have four spotted pedigree Bengal cats. Yesterday Mr G had to rescue one that had got stuck up his tallest tree. Since his brain haemorrhage and strokes, he is not supposed to climb ladders, especially one as high as that one. But he did, and the cat was rescued. My hero.