In this hot, beautiful weather my heart hurts.
For the past couple of days a racing pigeon has sat on our roof. Tired from flying in such unprecedented weather, it rests at The Larches wearing two little bands around spindly legs. It seems to enjoy our company but is generally mindful not to come too close.
We'd opened the velux windows to the attic room above the kitchen and had to rush and close them as the pigeon eyed with interest the bed in the room below.
Yesterday evening we put out some of our chicken's corn, placed high and safe on a wall. But lulled by the music played on the iPod while hubby was barbecuing, it flew down to the ground, venturing in to explore the kitchen through the open back door. We only just saved him from the cat; Benny our most successful predator.
Today I'm back to my writing. It's hot. I've had several interruptions from tree people and horse people wanting to use the manège .... Distracted, I left the back door open.... Pigeon returned and decided to pay me a visit.
I heard the commotion in the corridor outside my office and raced out. Benny had the beautiful silver grey bird by the throat, wings wide, crucified against his chest. I gave chase, but unlike Tabby, Benny never releases. He fled across the garden and over our wall heading to the cattle fields. Gone. I won't find them now, won't enter a field of 50 cattle with calves and a fiesty bull.
My only consolation is that it would have been so injured that I wouldn't have been able to release it anyway. But my heart still hurts for the lovely gentle creature who seemed only to be looking for a bit of respite.
I love the cats; there have been no rats seen since we got them and yesterday Benny killed a mouse in the old cottage/my potting shed, the mouse that's been eating my seedlings I hope. But I'm cross now, cross that I couldn't save the pigeon.