It was unseasonably warm today, though moodily overcast, and as I was feeling a little better I went for a walk around the garden, searching for early bees or hoverflies. I found just one honey bee, but even that was exciting enough to have me stalking her for several minutes. My nicest discovery though was this little self-sown patch of crocuses, deep in the undergrowth in the wild garden (currently so very wild that I’m wondering about the feasibility of borrowing a couple of sheep from somewhere).
While searching that piece of garden for bugs I came across some animal droppings, close to one of the entrances of the suspicious network of tunnels which has been dug through our wood chipping and compost heaps, and which I photographed, certain that I would now be able to identify our non-paying lodger without the need to sit up all night in the company of the wolves and trolls which definitely visit this part of the garden after dark. It took me a good five minutes on the web this evening to discover that the droppings belong to… a Muntjac. Which is, admittedly, a small deer, but perhaps not the likeliest creature to be burrowing through a compost heap – and so the mystery continues. (I have to say, though, that my opinion of Muntjac has gone down at the discovery that they’re the kind of neighbours who poo on other people’s doorsteps. It’s most surprising – they look so very polite.)
Lifted by my potter around the garden, and the relative ease of breathing out in the fresh air, I then fetched secateurs and did twenty minutes forty minutes an hour’s gardening (or so), foolishly leaving the debris uncarted and leading to R’s greeting on arriving home from work: “Was that wise?”
Ummm…. no – possibly not. Think I’d best get myself off to bed now…
