The Edge of the Wold

By gladders

Greeting the day

Reg isn't an early riser like Gus and me. He appears from his house some time after we have had our morning walk and breakfast. He likes to stand on his doorstep meditating on the new day. Though when he spotted me this morning, he made an earlier exit with one thing in mind: strawberries (though I have found he enjoys nectarines too).

I am grateful that he is as small as he is. Were he the size of a Galapagos giant tortoise, he would be seriously scary. When he hears me in the garden, he rapidly swivels round from whatever he is munching on, and homes quickly in. He can deliver quite a nip with his horny beak, and yesterday after devouring a strawberry, he was trying to peck my toes through the holes in my Crocs. Not a friendly, nice to see you sort of peck either. More of an insistent, feed me now nip.

Our two pets couldn't be more contrasting. Gus is a warm-hearted, polite and gentle soul, eager to please and ever so sociable. Reg is cool and solitary, he aims to please only himself. Gentle he is not. He came to us because he had taken to shell-butting the two other tortoises with whom he was living after his move to Cumbria from London. He had to be separated from them. Even a winter in the fridge didn't dampen his hostility, he came out of hibernation fighting. With his London origins, I tend to think of him as a bit of a gangster from the East End, the tortoise version of Reggie Kray. But he does have his own reptilian charm, we can't help admire his attitude. And he doesn't need three walks a day. Whereas Gus is looking forward to No 3 as I type this.

The rain has stopped. The repairs to the guttering worked, and the water butt is full again.

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