Fantail

I went to a bridge a couple of kilometres away, hoping to get a watery shot, and found this fantail flitting in and out under the bridge. I'm pretty certain that it is not the one that visited me in the autumn. There must be enough flying insects there to keep it going. I've cropped this photo a lot to bring the bird close and it's no good in large.

How exciting it was to see and communicate with other blippers live this morning.



The mouse has gone and it could have been a YouTube star.

It has been in the laundry for several days. I could smell it. The cat brings them in and liberates them inside the house to provide recreational hunting opportunities when the weather is not suitable for outdoor pursuits. They are always female fieldmice- sweet little things in their place. I hate to set a trap for them and then have the job of burying the tiny bodies. It's much better to catch them by hand and carry them away from the house. They don't come back.

This one was very elusive. Neither the cat nor I could track it down.

Then, when I was standing very still to do something, I heard a rustling coming from the carton I keep my ropes, cords and string in. There was also a packet of lupin seeds in there. As I looked a cute wee face appeared above the top of the box. She took one glance at me standing so close and disappeared into the depths.

I picked the carton up and took it outside and put it on a chair. Then I carefully removed coils of cord and balls of string, and the packet of seeds until there was nowhere left for the mouse to hide. She looked up at me defiantly. Without warning she sprang, landing in the middle of my chest. I think I said "eeek!" but I'm not noted for saying the right thing at the right time. As I threw out my chest my arms went back. The mouse ran up to my shoulder and down one sleeve to the cuff before jumping onto the lawn.

Suddenly the cat was there, ready to grab the mouse and get it back into the house. While I was shouting and stamping at the cat the mouse made its getaway.

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