Another great day for the wife:

the Big Garden Bird Watch. We usually manage to include our Greater Spotted Woodpecker by starting the one hour bird check when he/she arrives. Brown jobs, common or garden goldfinches, starlings we can get any time but the exotic woodpecker is worth waiting for. Being a bit pushed for time we started our count at 8.55. 9.54 no Woodpecker and off to the Kirk we had to go with a minute of the scrutiny period unused. But on our return from church there she/he was and we had thirty seconds left, so down it went on our list.

We get quite a lot of our feathered acquaintances-bit presumptuous to call them friends as we are only on nodding terms. Our main attraction is the woodpile, loaded with goodies. I had suggested to the wife that we start with our even more exotic visitor: Simon the Sparrowhawk. Good thinking except one sparrowhawk equals no other birds for an hour or so as he lurks in ambush mode at the bottom of the woodpile, no other feathered thing, apart possibly from the big thick Cock Pheasant feels able to take the marauder on. Even Boots the Cat steers clear until the Sparrowhawk has gone on its way. In these circumstances our return to the RSPB would be One Sparrowhawk, called Simon and ,er, that's it.

No more talk of birds, I feel a rush of ennui coming on. So here is a nice seasonal image of our snowdrops. Pretty and don't cost us a fortune in nuts, fatballs,nyjer seeds and not quite stale unfinished loaves. Organic to boot.

How I suffer for the wife''s art.  ¶ 12:50 PM