This popped up in my Facebook “memories” today. I thought it may be of interest, even though it is rather a long read.
Not only do I talk to the trees, I talk to all manner of things.
Each morning I go for a walk.
I have various routes, but all take in fields, woodland, the River Erewash, the Erewash canal, bridges, a main road, and suburban streets.
Some days I hardly see a living soul, others I see far too many!
My normal route takes me down my road, which has only some 9 houses. At the bottom of the road I have my first conversation, with a brazen hussy who rolls on the ground and will not let me pass before she is satisfied. Somewhere close by her brother will be watching. He is more timid and undemanding. Their Mummy lives at the end house and thinks they are both boys!
I explain that I have to get on, and continue on my way. She follows, then runs ahead. It is…
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The Cob was extra vigilant this morning
and, although he still found time to complete his ablutions, he kept a wary eye on me, and lashed out at those less wary passers by.
The Cygnets were their normal lovely, fluffy selves but were especially quiet.
Now there are only eight. Yesterday afternoon one of their sisters was attacked and killed by a dog.
Lets hope that the rest manage to survive to adulthood!
We had huge thunderstorms yesterday and the rain continued this morning. Then it dried up.
Mum and Dad took the opportunity to move the 9 cygnets into dry dock to get them cleaned up a bit!
More baby swan pictures – still 9, and getting bigger by the day.
This morning was lovely and sunny. Dad was raiding the small bird table.
Mummy obviously felt she could leave her 9 eggs to bask in the sun while she had a drink, a bite to eat, and a little leisure time. She came across the canal to hiss at me. I’d obviously outstayed my welcome!
Meanwhile a circus duck was practising his skills prior to getting on the tightrope.
See more swans here
Last year a long term swan couple’s marriage was rent asunder when the pen was killed by a dog.
The cob was distraught and sailed forlornly up and down the canal looking for his wife. He disappeared for some considerable time and we all thought he had died of a broken heart, or had moved elsewhere to find solace.
We were overjoyed late last year when he reappeared with a new young lady friend and, eventually, they settled down to a leisurely life together.
I am pleased to announce that they are now actively nest sitting, although the cob is far more laid back than his wife.
Here he is snoozing and gently drifting:
While his wife keeps the nest warm:
I had a word and advised that he really ought to get back and help out: