We are honoured (and a tad unnerved) to having been selected as a suitable breeding spot at Wattlebury by a pair of Red Kites. Kit Kite was a lone figure from early spring - but as he didn't leave the area, we guessed he probably had a mate close-by. Honey (the littlest hound) first alerted us to Kit as he circled over her, showing more than a little interest in her small proportions. Mr Buzz had similarly done this some years ago. Was she a weasel? Was she a long rabbit? They were both very curious. For poor Honey it was attention that she would rather not have invited!

Likewise, as Kit circles over the yard studying us intently, some of us freeze, some of us make a strangulated choking noise and some of us (me) bolt into the nearest open doorway. Not that I am a wimp - but from the look of those talons and beak - I am certainly not hanging around to count the feathers! Pauly Turkey, although one of our largest and plumpest, is very frightened and dives into cover as fast as her inadequate body-to-leg-ratio pins will carry her. The only person who isn't fazed by Kit is Harry the Peacock who bravely flies to the top of the stables and stays guard.
Yesterday however, Kit was joined by Kate and the two of them circled over us. Their babies should have fledged by now, but will still be relying on their parents for a steady supply of food. Suddenly out of nowhere Mr Buzz skimmed overhead followed by a mob of jackdaws and crows. Kit and Kate simply rose gracefully to a higher level and left them far below. It takes Mr Buzz a few more circles to rise that high! And the Mob lose interest at that height. Mr Buzz is a bit put out as he now has to compete for the carrion and worms and small creatures on his patch!
Gordon xxx

Curious to find out more about the three babies that Naomi is proudly running around with, I quizzed Drongo.
"So what exactly has been going on here, Drongo?" I asked.
He looked over his shoulder before replying -

"A little indiscretion, I'm afraid Gordon. A rather foolish dalliance. You won't tell Reuben, will you?"
Well, it wasn't for me to tell Reuben. But I would have thought that little Rosecombs with gold feathers was a bit of a give away.
"We call them Donna, Moira and Norman" said Drongo proudly.

And it was obvious that they were very much loved as Drongo protectively ushered them on their way -

- Reminded me of my little faux pas a while back and what characters Neddie and Seagoon turned out to be! Gordon xxx

It is a little bit chilly this morning - at least for July - but a beautiful, bright and sunny one. That cold wind of yesterday has dropped and we are making the most of the early bugs around our little farm.

Drongo is keeping his three babies in check. They are cheeky little fellows - they actually remind me of Neddie and Seagoon - and they scamper after Naomi Rosecomb as she scans the yard for tasty morsels and calls them insistently. Mum looked on a mission as she fed and watered us. No dithering. What was afoot?
"Today I am going to paint the living room at Wattlebury Cottage, Gordon!" she announced.
Oh dear. I had visions of orange, orange and more orange. Mum likes orange.
"Magnolia. Nice and warm and neutral."
Well, that's a relief.
"With perhaps a bit of orange by the fireplace."
Aaah. And with that Mum scurried around like Blek le Rat and with a farewell wave to us all disappeared in a matt emulsion haze. Gordon xxx

Mickey strode purposefully down to the yard this morning, tut-tutting as he swayed menacingly towards us.
"You must understand, Gordon, it is not you that I am cross with."
I found this slightly, but only marginally, reassuring.
"It is Monica."
Aaah. Yes, Monica is the bane of Mickey's life. She lives in the old Land Rover and waves at Mickey through the windows as he precariously dangles from the roof to watch her antics. She will insist on wiggling her whiskers at him from the safety inside. Monica does not venture out often - and is extremely careful whenever she does - as she has a plentiful supply of yummy food right on her (inside) doorstep. Richard the sheep farmer keeps his barley in there. Mum keeps peanuts and rolls and other delicacies for various creatures in there. And Mickey's food is kept in there.
"My Food Tin was left slightly ajar the other week and she snuck in and left bits of baler twine and chewed up paper in my biscuit!"
Mickey's tail swished fiercely from left to right and right to left. We watched nervously - just in case he forgot we were his friends as he relived the moment.
"But this morning! Well - look at this Gordon! Who does she think she is? And how many more Monicas are there? And I can't get into the Land Rover!"

Mickey looked slightly relieved now that he had vented his anger and frustration and he sat down, more calm and collected.
"We need a plan."
I was rather concerned with the 'we' bit.
"Uhm I shall give it a lot of thought, Mickey," I conceded. "Dad will be cutting logs again soon for the winter and driving the Land Rover around the fields. He could drop Monica off in a field."
"That is one possibility. I was rather thinking of something more - urm - permanent though Gordon."
I nodded in agreement so as to appease Mickey, whilst meantime feeling rather squeamish!
Gordon xxx

We have just had a most welcome visitor - Master Yaffle. He has a diet of ants, ants and more ants. The Green Woodpecker is quite shy normally, however after the heavy rain we had yesterday he was very bold and came to a well known ant nest in Wattlebury. The ground had just moistened enough for him to be able to dig his beak in and extract a few yummy ants.  He licked up some adult ants and their larvae with his long tongue - that apparently can wrap around to the back of his head!  He seemed a very yaffable chap - just starting to grow his red feathers on his black moustache - and we watched quietly so as not to disturb him from his foraging. But all too soon enough he bobbeddy bobbed away with his musical laugh echoing over the field. Gordon xxx

It is with great sadness I have to break the news to you that our dear, loyal and most learned friend, Harvest the Duck, has gone to the great Library in the Sky. I have flicked back the parchment of my Diary to 26th January 2011 when we first starting writing of our family and friends - and saw that we thought Harvest was pretty ancient then! No one knows how old she was - she would never tell us - but we think she was about 16 or 17! She will be missed by everyone at Wattlebury Farm as she took us all under her wing and provided, in her own inimitable style, warmth and care and love. When we were babies, or needed looking after - Harvest was always there for everyone of us.
However, before she fell asleep - most peacefully I must say - cuddled up with Bernie the Buff and Pauly Turkey - she passed on her wisdom and Library to our three new recruits - Lucy II, Jemima II and little Josie. They will have big webbed feet to fill, but we are all confident that they will carry on Harvest's legacy with aplomb.
Let me introduce them to you:

Au revoir bonne amie  - La Bibliothecaire extraordinaire. We will all miss you very much. Gordon xxx