Jane came in the other morning to tell me about something she’d seen in the garden. A curious noise led her to two lunatics, fighting to the death.
Her eyes were nearly popping out of her head while she was telling me. She’s just like her dad, that’s what he does when animated. It’s a wonder they don’t pop onto his cheeks – I’m so sure one of these days they will do. I end up watching his eyes more than listening to him would you believe…!
Anyway, she’d gone into the garden and heard a loud bird noise but couldn’t tell what it was or where it was coming from. Her Miss Marple comes into force so she went further down the garden to see what was happening. All the while wondering if it was the sparrowhawk was causing havoc somewhere – it has a taste for our garden birds, the poor little things.
When she got halfway down the garden, the noise was louder, but still nothing she could identify. All of a sudden, she looked up and realised the sounds were coming from the nest box under the eaves. We’ve had the same box for donkeys years and more often than not we end up with starlings having their babies in it.
There’s a door on the end to clean it out and lo and behold when she looked inside, she saw what she thought was a dead starling.
We shall be running out of space in our garden soon for a decent burial. Over the years we’ve buried birds, fish, dogs… (well not me, Kevin does it). If he didn’t, I’d want a full funeral service over the poor unfortunate things, so he knocks about sharpish before I get the chance!
Fighting to the Death
Looking into the box she realised she needed to do something so pulled the body out. It wasn’t one but two starlings. Head to toe, and holding onto each other’s beaks with their feet, they were trying to kill each other!
Seemingly fighting to the death, they weren’t letting go for anyone, even when she put her hands on them and tried to separate them, they weren’t playing and carried on with their fight to the death over who was going to use the nest box. In the end, she yanked at them both to pull them apart.
By this time, she was beginning to think that they had got hold of some superglue and that’s why they were so stuck. Eventually after a lot of pulling and tugging, she managed to get them to let go. When I asked her what happened next, she told me they had both flown away. Presumably to carry on where they’d left off! Talk about gratitude, not even a thank you for saving their lives! What can you say!
Strong Back Required
I don’t know what your gardens are like out there, but ours is desperately in need of a good tidy up. Usually we have the Winter mess tidied up by now. But I’m out of action and Jane’s not far behind me. I keep saying ‘somebody is going to have to do some cutting back, like it or not’.
Suddenly, a hushed silence follows, as the mention of cutting back plants is a sure-fire certain way to shut the men up. Kevin will do the heavy stuff like cutting lawns and all that. But beautifying, planting, cutting back and all the other things you do in a garden have always been mine and Jane’s jobs.
We had a big garden in Yorkshire which was beautiful if I say so myself. I could be found out there most days, cutting back, tidying and all the jobs us women do! Now, I couldn’t do it to save my life. Blooming arthritis, it gets my goat as I so want to be out there doing jobs again, but simply can’t. Anyway, it can’t be helped so left foot forward and over to the men.
A Dirty Word!
I don’t know why, but ‘gardening’ seems to be a dirty word to our two. I can see hubby slithering down the sofa at the mere mention of chopping stuff back, almost as though he’s trying to melt into the settee. While Kevin usually says ‘I don’t mind the heavy stuff but I’m not keen on the other’.
Jane went out on Sunday morning and tidied the bit of garden outside my bedroom window. It was getting on my nerves, I must say, although I hadn’t said so to her. (Jane: I’m psychic..) She also has lots of pain, what a legacy, pain passed down through the generations.
I so envy people who don’t have a life of pain, it must be wonderful for them. But you get what you’re genetically given aren’t you. I keep telling myself that there are a lot of people a lot more worse off than me. So I don’t know if and when we’ll get the men folk motivated, but they aren’t getting out of it, one way or the other!!
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