A February Face
"Why, what's the matter, that you have such a February face, so full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?"
Much Ado About Nothing (Act 5 Scene 4)
There are special kits but put the bee on a flower then give it honey on a spoon works
February is over, and am I glad? Well, I won’t miss the interminable rain and harsh frosts from early in the month, but the last week has been wonderfully mild, much more John Clare’s The Shepherd’s Calendar than Shakespeare’s frost and storm. This month I've resuscitated two bumblebees, walked under Greylag geese perching on pine trees that line our morning walk (a potentially risky process, goose poo descending from on high is pretty nasty stuff), pruned a lot of willow, got some first early spuds and shallots planted, and sowed a lot of seed. I’ve also successfully defeated the Squatter Robins from nesting in my shed again like they did last year.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the robins (or Ruddocks as they used to be called. Ock means little in old english. So, Dunnocks are the eponymous Little Brown Jobs (LBJs) beloved of birdwatchers, and Ruddocks little red jobs).
Whatever their name, they have been trying to move into the shed again and I have been trying to stop them because once they set up house I can’t shut the shed, or go near the nest (which is in one of my tool organisers). And there’s robin poo everywhere, not as bad as goose, admittedly, but still not a great handful when you’re grabbing for a pair of secateurs .
Every time I leave the door open they’ve been in there scouting for real estate, but last week finally capitulated and built their nest in my pot store instead.
Squatter Robin waiting for an opportunity to move in
Pruning the willow
This is an overdue job, and eyeing the now muscly 20ft plus trees, one that I was a bit hesitant to start. These were little twigs a few (well. 10) years ago when I spotted their beautiful golden yellow colour in a local hedge. So I enrolled Destructor Man - my husband Stu. Despite my lily-livered hesitance he confidently cracked on, and in a short time it was all done and neither of us sustained any life altering injuries, which was nice.
Willow cutting- all limbs intact
Now all I have to do is sort it all out. This is high quality biomass (is or was alive and an organic resource to keep on site) so I want to use it well. The bigger trunks will be edging for beds, the medium branches for dead hedging and the smaller branches and twigs through the shredder make Ramial Chipped Wood (RCW). RCW is much higher in protein and other nutrients than usual wood chip, and a perfect mulch for fruit trees and bushes.
Gravy Bones
I’ve been failing Charlie Dog over the last four weeks: His mobile snack dispenser (me) has been embarrassingly slow. Following a tiresome and painful knee injury from slipping during an incredibly muddy dog walk I’ve been struggling to keep up.
I can see him eyeing me askance as I shamble brokenly along after him. Fumbling into the too deep pocket of my favourite and huge men’s waterproof jacket for his gravy bones is giving me an added Quasimodoesque hunch that doesn’t help the look.
It’s only the lead connecting us that stops him pretending he’s not with me. And the gravy bones of course.
Gravy Bones, whether dispensed from the Pouch of Plenty, the Snack Jacket or the huge men’s waterproof on very rainy days, are the cornerstone of our walks- which have happened at 7.50 or thereabouts every morning, rain or shine, since Charlie came to live with us 20 months ago.
Charlie’s a bit broken, but then who isn’t? He was estimated to be about 10 when we got him and it was obvious from his physical and mental scars that his life so far hadn’t been a bed of roses.
He was also so starved and emaciated that he looked like a dog with a staffy head on a whippet body, and couldn’t cock his leg without hopping as he just didn’t have the muscle power in his hind legs. He’s now a little on the chubby side. I know he won’t mind my sharing that with you, because he’s a dog and doesn’t give a toss about how he looks.
Our walks were initially taught-lead gallops towards he didn’t know what, or maybe he just wanted out and away. He was fearful of any form of restriction, and even now putting on his harness is a ballet of feigned eagerness and sudden anxious last minute ducking away, albeit a playful version of what it used to be.
Once we are out, walks are a relaxed gravy bone enriched stroll, a snack fuelled Sniffari, if you will. I know I should have cut down on the treats once Charlie was more relaxed on the lead, but I really enjoy his manoeuvring to get them.
The thing about being a cat person is that I appreciate the Machiavelli in my pets. Cats are manipulative sociopaths, pure and simple, and we love them for it. We all know that if they ever evolve keyboard skills and an opposable thumb so they can order and open their own food, we’d no longer be of any use to them and they’d probably suffocate us in our sleep. No? Just me, then. Well, anyway, their attempts to outwit and manipulate me have always provided endearing entertainment.
So, Charlie’s gravy bone acquisition mission during walks may not be subtle but it’s him attempting to manipulate me and I find it very funny. It delights me because I think having some control over our environment is essential for mental wellbeing no matter what our species is, and I unashamedly encourage it by playing along.
Here’s a summary of his cunning methods:
Charlie’s Gravy bone ploys
The Body Block
On-lead ploy. Cut in sharply to stand in front of owner’s legs ensuring any forward movement will result in her tripping over you. Look up with calm expectation. Obtain the fee for forward progression- ½ gravy bone
The body block- it looks effortless when Charlie does it.
A classic empty battery pose.
The empty battery manoeuvre
On-lead ploy. Slow down gradually to a complete stop. Attempt to imitate the battery operated toy that didn’t get the Duracell. Maintain an exhausted head down, tail drooping, mournful eyed posture until noticed. Energy requirement for miraculously regaining the power to move on – ½ gravy bone.
The fake recall. Off-lead ploy with 2 versions:
1. The run up- dash up to owner as though recalled, plonk your steadily expanding arse into a sit and gaze with expectant and loving confidence into her eyes- Receive ½ gravy bone.
The run up being expertly demonstrated
2. The full fake recall- stop whilst she walks on distracted by some irrelevant primate thought, and maintain an expectant posture some distance away waiting for her to notice and call you. Then run up and plonk as above- Receive ½ gravy bone.
A beautifully executed full fake recall expectant wait.
Onwards into March!
