- Karst journey in West Berkshire
‘Welcome to the new edition of this guest blog. I am a full-time working mum of 2 boys and a published novelist of ‘The Ninth Cross’ by my pen name J. Karst. I get involved in trying that little bit I can in saving the environment for the future generations.’
I haven’t done a blog last week because I was hiding. I predicted the impending doom of the English football and decided to run for it. Thankfully, my men are over the loss and are planning for the World cup 2022. I admire their optimism, but I am not taking any chances. I did a quick reiki of the camping equipment and identified a suitable camping pitch in the Bucklebury woods.
Apart from football, there was another worry I had to tackle. Our bird feeders were being emptied at an alarming speed. My husband treats the feathery fluffballs like royalty and purchases a gold-plated seed which costs three times more than what’s on offer in the local garden centre.
Still, I do like to watch the little fluffballs jumping around the bird bath or to listen to their evening chorus. However, their deafening 4am chorus makes me reconsider whether a shotgun should be added to my birthday present list.
Only last week I sat in my garden, chewing on a sandwich, when a mouse appeared underneath the bird feeder. Cool as a cucumber it munched away the fallen gold-plated seeds not breaking an eye contact with me. Shooing it away was pointless for it was back within seconds to resume the munching duties.
Its breezy, cool as a cucumber attitude got me angry. I decided to show the little rodent who is the boss and bought a humane trap. After four days of adding posh cheddar to Mr Tiddle-mouse diet I gave up. To add insult to injury I also realised that I wasn’t just feeding a nest of Einstein mice, I also provided nutrition to bunch of ‘rats with bushy tails’, aka. squirrels.
These acrobatic creatures hung upside down and emptied all birdfeeders at an alarming rate. Nature wasn’t finished with me and gave me the final punch. I realised that the hedgehog biscuits were in fact being emptied by my neighbour’s tabby, who would daily sunbathe its budging tummy on my lawn whilst watching the happy rodents having a feast
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