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!

When I End Up Covered In Blood .....

  When ever I'm trying to do something and I end up pissing with blood? That's, generally, right about the point where I say, " Fuck It! ". Down my tools and go get a beer.

  Well, I've just done that. Let me explain; It all started a few years ago. I finally gained myself enough free time and clear head to settle down to tinkering about, doing shit I felt like.

 What I felt like was making and putting up nest boxes for the wild birds around here. Tits are an obvious choice, of course. But, I also have a soft spot for starlings. 

  So it was that I built dozens of boxes and put them out and about, all over the area I comfortably strolled. And all was good. And the birds did come and, lo, they proliferated. Obviously then, I Did look upon this and see that it was good.

 Then, last year, the pine marten population, that had been teetering on the very finest point of balance, made that one, teentsy bit of effort ..... And avalanched, freefall, into total saturation!

  The result being that barely 10% of the chicks in my nest boxes got out alive. And I personally know of just One of my swallows nests that may have got away. Basically though, it was a route. A complete massacre. 

  Nest boxes were ripped into. Open, 'wild' nests were ripped apart. As were any birds caught on or in them.

  Obviously, I'm not about to sit back and see this happen again this year. So, first off I looked to my starling boxes. They're already building their nests.

  I cut seventeen, carefully measured, pieces of wood. These I then measured up again, for the entrance holes I needed to hole saw cut through them. 

  That done ~ some stained, to match the torn up boxes they'd be fitted to, to cover and strengthen the piney damaged holes ~ I pumped four screws into each of them. Ready to quickly fix to the active nest boxes with minimal disturbance.

  I felt quite pleased with that little burst of activity. Untill, that is, I married one up against the face of one of my nest boxes. Then tried to open said box!

  I should point out that the upper half of the front of my boxes forms the lift out / up door. The top edge moves back, into the box. Bit like an up and over garage door.

  Only, with an inch thick lump of timber strapped to it? The door couldn't budge. Great. Seventeen pieces of carefully measured and cut wood. Seventeen carefully cut fucking holes. Fuck Knows how many fucking screws put in ....!

  All for nothing. I'd forgotten my own golden rule (because I'm fucking useless) of Always trying shit for fit. All that time, effort and materials, down the pan. Imagine my delight!

  Okay. Fuck sake. Spilt milk and all that. Think ..... I'd tried hole sawing a 40mm hole through some thin, steel cladding I have here. It laughed at me!

  Think some more. Thinner metal? Tin? Beer Kit Tins Tin??? I have plenty of those! Got one. Got the tin shears out and went to town. 

  Cut myself a sheet out and held it firmly down onto my block of scrap timber, on the window sill. Pressed the drill firmly down and pressed the trigger.

  Much whirring. Couple of sparks. Bit went through. Teeth scratched at it. Damn!

  I took the drill off and examined the tin. Hmm. Not what I'd hoped for or expected. But, wasn't it getting there?  I put the bit back in the hole. Applied that bit more pressure. Pressed the trigger .....

 " VrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRHH!!!!! " SPIN!!! Fucking piece of tin shot round like a malicious Catherine Wheel! I just registered that really, Seriously scary touch against my thigh (I have a Thing about catching my femoral artery!) when my thumb exploded!

  That's it. Fucking blood everywhere! First Aid training kicks in. Hand straight up in the air. " Please, sir; May I be excused? I've just fucking butchered myself here! "

  For fuck sake. And that's why I'm sitting here. Having a beer. Thumb swathed in heavy duty plaster strip. Kitchen looking like a set from a Shlock Horror film.

  I'm pissed off. Really, Deeply fucking pissed off. Because I nearly took my thumb off.

  Well, now? It's Gloves Off ....!

    

I Can See This Ending Badly .....

  I met Seamy in town the other day. He's Tommy's brother. And they bought Eddie's old place. Making them my new, nearest neighbours.  Seamy told me that Tommy had got himself an aviary. And had populated it with budgies.

  Of course, my first thoughts were for their safety. I said how they really oughta get a trap or two down alongside that aviary. Even better, get more around their close perimeters. Head the fuckers off at the pass.

  I didn't try to push my idea though. I've long since learned not to waste energy on pushing brick walls. Seamy just about exhausted his own patience, waiting for me to finish my own few sentences on the subject.

 Then he firmly stated that a bit of electric fencing round the thing would take care of it. 

  I didn't bother asking if he expected a herd of flesh eating cattle to turn up. 


  Happens that I was up their end, the other day. Seamy was pottering about. We met. Exchanged. I could barely have missed the aviary. Nice sized one, up by the front door. I gladly accepted the invitation to take a closer look.

  Dear god. What can I say? Our main winds, here, come howling down from the west / south west. So, Seamy's advised Tommy to shield off one side with polycarbonate sheeting.

 The East side, of course. South is the front. West is completely exposed to the fierce winds and lashing rains that come down off that mountain.  No way would I leave a Dog exposed to them.

  Winding round the 1" thick kick board was a single strand of thick, galvanised wire. Four inches up. Three out. Electrified by who knows what? I thought how their two Jack Russels would be far more at risk there.

  Studying the woefully thin guage welded mesh. Held on by randomly spaced staples ..... I found myself staring at one, particularly sparsely stapled length. Thinking;

  " Right there. That'll be the weak spot the piney finds. He'll have that ripped open in no time. And in he'll go ..... "


  Oh well. I really can see this ending badly .....