There is something that visits our garden at night. I do not know what it is. It enters (or exits) the garden under the fence. This I can guarantee as I have been fruitlessly blocking up the holes for a while, only to discover the very next morning, there is a new entry point already created. I have given up blocking the entrance.
It is too small for the poodles to get through and even too small for next doors lunatic, yelping dog. The Crazies (who live at number 30) seem to think it’s a badger, but it’s way too small for a badger…unless it’s a very small badger, of course. At least smaller than the Crazies’ dog.
Sometimes, when the poodles are well away in the Land of Nod, I will sneak out, making as little noise as possible, flash light gripped firmly in hand to try and catch it. I have not seen it yet.
The reason I have to wait for the dogs to be fast asleep is because if they think I’m going outside (and sometimes when I’m not) they charge up the back, barking and yahooing at, what I assume is, a fox. I know we have visits from a fox. I saw it one careless morning when we gave each other a fright. Of course, this will never do when it comes to sneaky wildlife glimpses, so I just wait for them to be comatose.
Well, last night, having talked to Mirinda about it and before tucking myself up in bed, I ventured out into the (very) cold (very) darkness, tippy toe tippy, torch at the ready. I stood, silent as a grave, opposite the hole beneath the fence.
The night was as silent as I – to be honest there was probably a roar coming from the triple roundabouts not far from our place but Mirinda wasn’t there and, for some reason, I only hear it when she is. Not a breath of wind, not a drop of dew to disturb anything. It was so quiet I could hear the goose bumps rising on my arms (typically I’d forgotten to put on a fleece and was standing in my pyjamas and, according to the weather station, it was 1.6).
Suddenly I was shaken from my imminent hypothermia by a Russell…I mean a rustle…deep within the holly bush. It sounded like a blackbird. They always sound a lot bigger and scarier than they really are. Clearly this is some sort of defence mechanism. I think they sound like snakes.
Not that our night time visitor could be a snake. Apart from the fact that there’s only about 7 snakes in the whole of England, it was far too cold and it would have been further asleep than the dogs.
So, there I was, standing uselessly with a torch, pointing it at the holly bush which, of course, was not about to reveal any of it’s secrets, with something fiddling about within it. I decided there was little point in my standing there any longer and went to bed.
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Today I entered, what felt like, a thousand breast relievers into MIMSY. There was only one photograph. I include it. If I never enter another, it’ll be too soon. I’d forgotten how truly dull data entry can be sometimes.
Glass breast reliever, courtesy of the Science Museum
You’re mad standing out in the cold. It was a mouse I expect making its way from Australia. Don’t like the picture of the Breast reliever looks like it might hurt.
Love mum
Bob and I were having a nightly visitor that really ploughed up our lawn and we were determined to stop this destruction. I sat on the verandah not making a sound and armed with a torch and Bob was inside armed with a rifle. After waiting half an hour the culprit appeared. By this time Bob was also on the verandah and there the creature was, a long nosed bandicoot looking so cute and innocent Bob and I retreated inside and commented, ”Oh well he wont eat much”
Love to you all.Claire
I think you should have waited a bit longer! Sounds like chickening out to me – fancy being afraid of a mouse.
We need to get an infra red camera!
In my defence, it is a bit bigger than a mouse and it was very cold!
Brave Gary