Finches and faeces

A thoroughly unglamorous weekend – originally planned to set to work digging the new vegetable yard I fenced last autumn, but yet another deluge meant the ground is still like pudding and unworkable. It needs to dry out soon if I’m to get planting in the not too distant future.

Determined though to do something useful with a fork and shovel, I got a job that’s been hanging over me out of the way – clearing the area the sheep have been fed in all winter of spilt hay and accumulated sheep shit. It took a whole day to shift – there must have been tons of it. Once the top layer of dryish hay had gone, underneath was a wet, heavy mass of stinking hay and dung. It all needed to be lifted and barrowed to the dung heap – a chore I normally put off indefinitely, but for want of anything better to do (what’s that you say? I should have been birding? In a northwesterly?) I endured and got the filthy job done.

My reward was unexpected but by no means unwelcome. I was trudging back to the house to get cleaned up when a calling finch flew overhead – Brambling. It pitched down onto the cleared sheepy area and began rootling around and feeding – a superb, glowing male. If only I had a camera…

House yearlist goes up by 1 again. Am still trailing the south mainland gardens by a fair margin!


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