Anyone who knows me will know that I am a bit obsessed when it comes to prey animals. If I know there's a rat skulking in the undergrowth or a squirrel in the loft space, or in the Albertine rose which clings to the back of the house, then I will sit for hours and hours, willing it down for one last deadly game of "Catch". Now, Mum mocks this behavious saying that I hunt like their old ginger tomcat "Kalamazoo" used to; watching the activities of birds, working out their flight lines and then sitting in the way with my mouth open, waiting for one to fly in.
Ha! Let me tell you I have had several kills in my short life, as this blog will attest - a rather shame-inducing robin early on, but since then a squirrel in the Cemetery and one indoors, and a rabbit on this year's 2CV camp.
But now we have a regular squirrel visiting the Albertine again, and spending some of his time on the roof of a sparrow roosting box just below the upstairs window sill. Mum suggested that Dad put a small strip of wood along it and a row of peanuts for him to find when "treed" all day by over-enthusiastic westies, lest he go hungry. There is now a small bowl screwed to the roof of the box, and the squirrel sits on it, outside the window and eats the nuts. I can get to the inside of this window by climbing onto the bed, and thence the window sill, so I can drive myself mad watching the little varmint feet away, but safe outside the double glazing. I can watch for hours. I am losing my mind!