Cocky. Your days are numbered

However early one gets up to make the tea in our **** kitchen Cocky, the mendicant Pheasant, often flanked by his hen bidees-near-the-same-bush-in, will be waiting beaks pressed against the glass. And they will demand feeding by stomping up and down looking fan tailed and eager until their breakfast of organically supervised mixed grain has been flung in their general direction.

Today's (rather blurry)image is of Ollie, Cocky's senior consort, strutting off in high dudgeon after Cocky got to the breakfast first and was preventing any of the distaff side getting their share.

The wife is worried that the next owner of the Old Manse will neglect bird welfare and is considering getting the brief to write in various 'burdens' into the legal documentation to do with bird feeding, organic gardening, no window cleaning until the starlings have gone and no closing of the garage door until the swallows have tidied up their nests and flown south(?)-With Global warming they may now head North instead. I fear the problem may be expense. Bad enough to have to raise a mortgage to buy the OM. To keep the birds in the manner the wife has made them accustomed to will require a second facility. Nuts, grain,fat balls, outside loos, special shrubs,plunge baths.Neighbourhood Cat watch. It all costs money and despite the massive foliage which surrounds our garden we all know what does not grow on trees.

Observing one of our potential house buyers watching the mass of birds chomping away outside the kitchen window I saw his trigger finger instinctively tense and curl.

I know the feeling.

But I only shot at rats with the borrowed air rifle.

Honest.

Labels: Cocky, Old Manse, Selling the Manse

  ¶ 11:18 AM