Scruffy

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R and I went for a cold, dark, misty walk at Croome this morning, where the most interesting thing we saw was this extremely scruffy but very bold robin, which sat on a sign post and watched us as we walked through a narrow gateway within a couple of feet of it. I can’t work out why it was so dilapidated, especially since it appeared otherwise healthy.  A photo I took from a different angle shows the remains of a pale wing bar, which suggests a juvenile moulting into its adult plumage, but March seems like an odd time to be doing this. Birds continue to be a bit of a mystery to me though – which is why they’re so endlessly fascinating, of course; I’ll have to do a little more research, and see if I can come up with an explanation.

Back at home I spent the first two hours of the afternoon cleaning the car, which might seem like a long time, but if you average it out, it works out to 2.3 minutes of car cleaning a week, which isn’t too bad. I then spent another hour or so cleaning out the wildlife pond and treating it against blanket weed, by which time I was just about on my knees, but I pushed myself a bit further and went for a brisk walk before dinner, just to prove to myself that I could.

I’m now so toadally zorsted that I’m reeling. Netflix and wine are calling.