Let’s start small – no, not microscopically tiny – just a small mammal and we will work up to bigger ones. Five of us were having supper in the garden on Monday evening.
We were slurping gazpacho, anointed with croutons, chopped red onion and olive oil and drinking a Provencal rosé. We could have had chilled Manzanilla but I forgot. Anyway, an observant guest spotted a mouse gorging at the bird feeder filled with peanuts. A few days before I saw a rat scavenging outside Charing Cross Hospital – better out than in. Earlier this year I saw a rat on the platform at Gerrards Cross on the way back from the King’s Singers recital, otherwise I have seen rather few rats. I saw one in the stable yard at Slane Castle and tried to catch them on the dump beside the Ice House at Barmeath. My grandfather imported from America a trap probably devised to catch raccoons. It was a portable wire mesh tunnel with a swing in the middle where bait was positioned. When a rat touches the bait, even a whisker, the swing moves and gates slam down at either end of the tunnel. I never caught a rat and, if I had, might have been a bit scared*. So is the Urban Rat becoming more domesticated? Is the species getting ready to rule the country after Brexit? The Rodent Revolution may be nigh; but let’s look at something a bit bigger.
Robert was out in the cemetery with Bertie this week and saw one of the fox cubs; better still, he managed to take a photograph. Now much bigger. Yesterday we went to Richmond Park for a walk with Bali and Bertie. It was hot so Bali went for a swim while Bertie paddled rather nervously. It’s not just hot for dogs and soon two deer came to join us.
Actually Robert did not take this picture – I did. It’s almost as good as Robert’s pictures of sea eagles in a Norwegian fjord in the early days of this website, four years ago.
Some time ago I asked if readers would like to join me for walks close to London and got only one response. Post Bertie (PB) there have been five suggestions for suitable walks and lunches. The first of these will be in Windsor Park on Monday with Candy and Floss. One friend proposes skipping the walk and joining for lunch; she is in her mid-eighties. I know a small green box on wheels with no gears drives itself but, as I found out in 1977, the police take a narrower, less indulgent view of those who lunch well. Accordingly, Robert is going to take driving lessons.
* My grandfather was more skilled and did catch them. He thought it cruel to drown them so used to release them in the middle of the tennis court and the dogs usually killed them. I suppose now that’s as illegal as having a good lunch?
https://youtu.be/GWjbUAYcxII
You may know of the book, London’s Lost Rivers – A Walker’s Guide by Tom Bolton. He spoke at our Chal.St. Giles Lit. Soc. recently and I found him fascinating. Were it not for a painful knee I would love to explore, especially the exotically named tributaries.
Some years ago, with a group of friends, I made monthly trips to different areas of London with a Blue Badge Guide. Each area was so full of interest, I recall loving the area around Smithfield. How sad it is that all we learn we are unable to retain. How useful if we could have a memory clear out to make space for new information. I would gladly get rid of Humpty Dumpty and Baa Baa Black Sheep for something more relevant.