Duck update

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green...
I'll be honest with you, I don't lilt as much as I used to, but it's a lovely day and there are still ten ducklings young and easy under the apple boughs. And it's going to stay that way as long as I can keep the cats, rats and foxes out of the back garden.
Envoi: the sharp-eyed among you will have spotted that it's a plum not an apple tree. Poetic licence.

What can ail thee?

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The answer is in the next two lines:
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
David H and I went round the fen yesterday checking Barn Owl boxes. Not too bad, with 5 boxes containing young Barn Owls, and another 6 containing breeding Stock Doves. But the fens themselves were devilish quiet: no Marsh Harriers, just one Common Buzzard, a smattering of Corn Buntings and, in one spot, a fever of Yellow Wagtails. Oh yes, and Reed Buntings, Skylark, Common Tern.....
Wait a minute, I think I have woken up grumpy this morning. Time for some roughage

Hacked

Someone has hacked into my yahoo contact list and is sending, under my name, an email to everyone on it. The email contains a url ending in .com.
It is not from me. Don't open it.
And if you know how to put a hex on the bastard, please do!

No dice, says Mrs T

Another misguided missile from the fiery widow from North Wales:
Dear Mrs Samovar, she writes, I understand you are in the publishing business and would like to publish "The Collected Letters of Blodwen Trellis".
Nothing personal, dear, but I don't think I could work with a woman who goes around encouraging peasants to touch their foreskins.
Yours sincerely
Blodwen Trellis, Mrs, Widow, retd.

Aristo

I knew there was something aristocratic about me. It's not just the thin ankles after all. I bet I have as noble a pedigree as any Old English Sheep Dog, and it would be quite proper to breed from me (ceteris, unfortunately, are not paribus).
Well, it's a lovely evening, time for me to take a stroll through the village to give the peasants a chance to touch their forelocks.

Tip of the day

You will like this.
That is not a comment, that is an order!

Day-old Wesleyan chicks

Even hairy bikers are allowed to use the word "cute" to describe these little beauties. My thanks to Claudia for sending the pic to me. They are Wesleyan, by the way, not out of religious conviction, but because that is the name of the farm where the Kestrel nest is located. For all I know, they could be Osmagalian, an ideopathic faith if ever there was one.