The Changing World Beyond My Garden

Thanks to Jayne at A Novice Novelist for the inspiration for this blog post. Jayne’s latest post is entitled ‘A Moment From My Window’.

Back in 2002 when the Photographer and I came to view this house, there were two major things that we both fell in love with. One was the long room extension that the previous owners had added to the back of the house. This room is now our dining room and it is where I write From My Kitchen Table. I love it because of its size and also because it has one full wall of windows overlooking the garden. And therein lies the second big attraction of the house. Our garden is south-west facing and overlooks a huge field belonging to a local boys school.

When we moved in first we could see the school buildings clearly but now it is a view we only have in winter when the trees at the bottom of the garden are bare. But I love the fact that we are not overlooked and knowing that we are surrounded by lots of birds, foxes and greenery. However last summer we did decide that we needed to reduce the height of some of the trees as they were robbing the garden of light in the late afternoon.

On Monday work started on upgrading the sports field into proper football pitches. The ground apparently needed to be levelled. So each time I came into the dining room, the view from my garden had changed. At one stage it looked like I overlooked a tilled farm field as a tractor chugged up and down the brown furrows trailed by a flock of seagulls. Then the big earth movers moved in and the noise increased dramatically. They continue to roar up and down, pushing great mounds of earth and forcing new landscapes daily. Yesterday afternoon it was time to remove some of the huge trees which were blocking light and would be inaccessible once the new football pitches were complete.

Mia and I blocked our ears as the giant machines pulled up some trees by their roots. Their leaves gave one last rustle as they fell through the air, in slow motion, back to the earth. Life and death. A continuous cycle. It was uncomfortable to witness. We had wandered onto Watership Down. We talked about how the foxes and other wildlife would be hiding while these huge monsters stalked their world. But it will soon be over and the fields will be planted with grass which will be minded for a year or so until they become pristine football pitches where generations of boys into the future will learn about being part of a team.

Then the animals can return to take up their part in the tapestry of life in the fields beyond our back hedge! But for now the world beyond the garden is full of diesel fumes, the smell of earth, the roar of heavy engines and dreams of better days ahead.

Photo by The Photographer of the view from beyond the hedgerow at the end of the garden

BANG BANG BIRDIE

STOP PRESS: I finally caught Mrs Blackbird yelling birdie obscenities at Kitty who is getting a bit fed up of having no peace at all!!!

I am very glad that I don’t own a gun and that I live in country where it is generally against the law to own one. Because if I had a gun, last week I would have shot my dog, Dylan. He had a charming dose of the trots FOR 3 DAYS. 3 mornings of cleaning out his bed (crate) before breakfast to a chorus of “ohmygod, that’s just disgusting” from my darling precious daughters who would have run the risk of being shot too.

This week I would shoot Mrs Blackbird. Yep, that’s right. Mrs Blackbird. I would point my gun and BANG. Feathers all over the place. And then PEACE. QUIET.

Now before you rush to judgement – let me ask – have you ever heard an agitated Blackbird. They make the most annoying racket and it goes on and on and on. The problem clearly is that Mrs Blackbird is a mammy. She must have a nest full of baby blackbirds in the tree at the end of the garden. I am also assuming that this particular Mrs Blackbird was a bit sloppy when it came to doing her background research on a suitable location for her nest. She clearly saw the tree and letting her heart rule her head, decided “This is it”. “This is my tree. This will be my new home.” Had she come back for a second viewing before finally making her mind up (and had she bothered to tune into Kirsty and Phil she would have known all this), she would have realised that she was making a nest at the end of a garden belonging to four cats.

Now my cats are generally laid back, lazy moggies who venture into the garden to lie in the sun or do their business. They have a cat flap to facilitate these comings and goings. Youngest of the foursome is Kitty and she occasionally brings home a field mouse. She has never (to my knowledge) caught a bird. But anytime any of the cats venture into the garden at the moment, Mrs Blackbird comes flying out of her fabulous tree, roaring and bawling all kinds of birdie obscenities. She perches on the swing and keeps up her tirade until the cat in question retreats indoors again. But when Kitty puts one paw into the garden she goes ballistic altogether. Squawking and screeching at the top of her lungs and dive bombing Kitty as she wanders down the path.

But this morning took the biscuit altogether. I was sitting trying at my laptop trying to work on a story. I have gotten somewhat used to the incessant squawking but all of a sudden it seemed to go up a gear and get louder. “Oh shut up” I roared as I turned around to see Kitty sitting indoors on the window sill and Mrs Blackbird perched on a patio chair directly outside the window telling Kitty exactly what she would do with her if she even put one leg into the garden. I was stunned. Of course I had no camera to hand.

I will admit to admiring Mrs Blackbird’s tenacity and her dogged protection of her offspring. But clearly her hormones have gotten the better of her and I am worried for her sanity. Without a gun I am just praying that all her babies fledge successfully and soon. And that Kitty stays as lazy as she is, so we can all live happily ever after!