Fuckedest Thing ....!

Cue: Twilight Zone music!

  I've just come home, from town. I've had two pints of Guinness, while there. I'm in perfectly normal / good spirits. Nothing on my mind.

  Drop my shopping at the gate. Pay my lift. Start ferrying shit into the kitchen. Takes a few trips. But, I can't let the Dogs out till I've shut the front gate.

  Get done. Let the Dogs out. Stow all my gear in the right places. Come in here. Check my screen. Then, a receipt, for a hot air gun, that's been floating around my desk since for ever catches my eye.

  Last night? Today? I'd moved it aside, to my scanner. So it'd Really catch my eye and I'd take it to my store room and put it in my receipts tin. I keep receipts for tools. Lest they blow up.

  Okay. My mind trick works. I grab the receipt and open the door to the back rooms. Small, store room.

  Door from there leads to the 'Big Back Room'. Empty, except for disused canary cages and the flight cage " Goldie ", my little goldfinch mule lives in. 

  That door's permanently open, for ventilation. But, that means turning the light on, in the store room, would disturb Goldie. So, I used my little CluLite  PL2 torch.

  (Have I mentioned before; I'd trust my life to these tiny little torches? I carry one in my pocket at all times. Never know it's there till I need it. Spare AAA battery in another pocket)

  And, as I'm reaching for the tin I store my paper shit in, Ellie or Licky, having sneaked in with me, pawed the back of my calf. 

  Ye know how small Dogs will do that? Sort of stand against the back of ye leg. " I'm here, Dad. What ye up to? "

  My mind's focused on the tin though. I think nothing of my Dogs trying to attract my attention. I've been away ~ if only for hours.

  But: Both 'Small Dogs' are plenty big enough that their front feet would touch my knee, at least. And, they're heavy. Far heavier than this light touch .....

  The absolute capper was when I came out of there. Being sure to lock the door behind me. And, in no time, both the small Dogs were sniffing and scrabbling at that door.

  She's back. I've just been touched by a pine marten.
 

Nature? Why You Fuck With My Head?!

  I typed the following, onto Notepad, at 06:40, this morning. While it was still reverberating in my mind.

  "   Good god!

Okay. Real time here. I've just seen the most astonishing thing.

Five minutes ago, as I type, I headed out the back door. I guess I'm now habituated to focusing on the nut feeder, fifteen foot, directly, from the door.

   I, sort of, automatically ask myself what birds are on it, as I look through the glass,

Just now? Dunno. Something, just beyond my ~ ageing eyes ~ focus sparked something in my brain. There was something about the nut feeder.

Opened the door? All hell let loose! Something unwrapped itself from the feeder. It then, clearly, made the fence ~ close behind ~ and shot off to my left.

Okay. Dog's just distracted me. I've lost my train of thought. I'm already asking myself:

 " Was that a rat? Could it definitely Not have been the piney bitch? "

Dunno. Initial impression / jiz had given me rat.

What ever. What's Absolutely clear is that at least one, maybe more, Birds came off them nuts too!!! "

See what I'm saying, people? Which ever it was; It was commensal with the fucking birds!!!

  This is some spooky fucking shit, at my stage in the game! Pheasants ready to share with foxes. I've watched a collared dove shoo an adult rat off the feed.

  Come to that? Only yesterday, I saw an adult rat feeding. Surrounded by chaffinches, feeding on the same, 18" x 10" spread of seed. Not one fuck was given!

  But; A fucking rat, wrapping itself round my nut basket ~ as great tits and siskins hang within inches, eating the same nuts?! 

  Seriously; I really do think that the older we get, the more we see? The more we realise how little we really know!

 

Piney Ponderings .....

  So, couple of weeks or so back now ~ having long since stared up at the bitch Pine Marten, peering back down at the Dogs and I, from my store rooms chimney pot ~ The inevitable happened.

  I unscrewed the boards I have over the disused, little fire place. And found this: 

  Only two, this year. And my working hadn't even woken them.

  She nests in the roof space, see? The kits get big enough to mooch about. They fall down the chimney and can't get back up.

  Lucky for them, I'm still alive and alert. Nothing deserves to do a Poe slow shrivel in a dark tomb.

  First things first then; I gave them a bowl of water. And my fucking dinner! They Really enjoyed those pork and apple sausages! Bastards!

  Had to do the 'Broadmoor' routine, for a couple of days, of course. Locking doors behind myself, religiously. Dogs ever managed to get in there? There's be a Lot of 'crime scene' type cleaning to do!

  Funny little fuckers. They show no fear what so ever. Don't even try to bite, if ye touch them. (And, I had to physically pick a load of them up, last year)   

  As it is; This time, in agreement with the the appropriate authorities ~ our NPWS ~ I built these little sods a ladder to Leitrim.

  The bitch was coming down, out of the lintel above the rooms window. I was standing there, in the compound, gazing, nose to nose, through the window at her!

  I grabbed a crafty clip of them, on the window sill, where they'd found their preference for being.

  Next day, they were gone. I was surprised, as their coats were still quite fuzzy. Maybe she'd decided to shift them away to somewhere she felt they'd be safer?

  If I'm completely honest? I was a bit disappointed, to find them gone, so soon.

  But, a couple of items, on the back window sill were displaced. They'd clearly followed the bitch out that way. Now, they're in Leitrim.

  Next year? Things will be different. Watch this space!

Meeting the Opposition

I was in Hugh's, my butchers, today. Hugh's a smashing little chap and we always natter away endlessly, as Hugh serves who ever walks in after me first, as a matter of course. I'm seldom in a hurry and often as not use the doorstep of his shop as a smoking post. Ducking my head in to chat to Hugh, between drags.

I wasn't smoking today. Not at the moment I was inside, leaning on the counter and chatting to my man about fridges. There in my Fleck Tarn, German camouflage T shirt, " Pest Control " emblazoned Hi Viz vest and trade mark leggin's from WeatherWear of Walsall. (Go on, treat yeself! Say Ditch, of the F&MWTC advert personally recommended them!)

And this bloke walks in. Younger chap. Short sleeved, light blue shirt on. Pair of smart, black strides. I didn't need to look down to the polished, black shoes. Pretty obvious they'd be there. I couldn't take my eyes off the mobile phone case on his hip though. Well ..... actually, I probably exaggerated my focus on that, in an attempt to draw his attention from the fact that I'd just glimpsed the professionally screen printed motif on his left breast pocket. So, This was " APS " ?! We meet, at last; Moriarty!

Three years ago, I've washed up here, see? Soon enough got my cards out and made it known to who ever I spoke to what my trade was. Within six months, I receive a letter, addressed to some hitherto unheard of Pest Control business, not five miles down the road from me! It's almost as if this guy's heard of me and thought ~ as so many do! ~ " I can do that! Gizza job! " And so woke up the next morning and declared himself my rival.

And here he was, stood beside me, in Hugh's. First time I'd ever knowingly set eyes on the man. The man who has periodically replaced my own business card with his own ~ a thing I've never done, anywhere, to anyone, to be honest. I imagine it's a ploy whispered about at 'Setting Up In Business' seminars? They probably call it " Cuckoo Carding " or something? Smacks of lack of confidence, to me.

Anyway, he was stood on my deafer side. Thus I was more guessing than listening to what ever passed between us three. Sensing much of what he might have said and doing my best to respond accordingly, or else steer the subject to things I could talk of without needing verbal responses to prompt me.

Between himself, Hugh and I, it seems like mink and pine martens became the happy medium. Thus a general, three way conversation kicked off on that area of subject. I feel it really was a largely natural conversation too. I mean, matey appeared the least informed of the three of us. Hugh was simply offering his own, casual and annecdotal points of view. I was obviously the only person in the shop who had any real, personal experience of pine martens.

Indeed, when Hugh openly and unselfconciously stated that he'd never yet actually Seen a real, live piney, I similarly assured him that I could catch one of the buggers and fetch it in to show him! Being as they'll likely be nesting just now though, thinking about it, I'll just direct him to the little film I took of one and put on YouTube.

Anyway, as matey picked up his meat and wandered off to his sleek, black, shiney 'Range Rover' type motor, I turned to Hugh and said; " Why the fuck does he bother nicking my cards? What possible harm could we be doing each others businesses? That bloke's never going to appear behind some shit stinking cow shed, and no hotelier would want me stalking about his place. The types of services we're cut out to provide are fundamentally different. We'd make a better Team than bloody rivals! "

Quite true too. I'd mentioned to matey ~ might have heard his name but, I'm no good on names anyway ~ how my old Fuller Cat Trap had recently done the work on a couple more feral's. I could tell, by his reaction and expression; Trapping a cat - indeed, probably trapping just about any fucking thing was complete anathema to the guy. I doubt he even owns a trap!

But, as I also pointed out to Hugh; " No fucking way am I coming in here, offering to install or service that Electric Fly Killer! I'd be terrified of breaking ye tiles, as I tried to drill for the fixings. Then I'd hardly know what plugs to use. My place is out on the bog and round the back of ye semi derelict cow sheds. That blokes is on carpets. "

My parting shot was the irony of how the local pub / eatery had got Rentokil in ~ and how I'd nearly thrown up when I stepped out the back of there for a smoke, just the other day. Drains were blocked and stinking like fuck. Drain Flies and House Flies all over the place. And some sad cunt had hung a desultary fly paper up. Not a single fly on it! Said to Dean O' then; " Look at the fucking state of this! That's what ye get when ye paying through the nose for fuckin' Rento! "

But that's all quite another story.