Early seed gusted down from one of the trees in Calverley Ground.In the vegetable garden this morning there is flapping of wings as I go through the door in the wall. It is not the usual pigeon, but a fledgling thrush scuttling along the ground in the manner of a four-footed mammal rather than a bird. I follow it as it hides behind an apple tree. It runs about down there for some minutes. It seems uncertain about its potential to fly, but in the end, instinct overcomes, inertia, and it manages, miracle of miracles to launch itself into the air. My heart misses a beat as disappears into the leaves of nearby trees.
This afternoon in the garden as I cut the grass I sense a pair of eyes watching me. They belong to the Siamese cat which lives in the terrace two doors away. It is crouching on a brick path where overhanging herbs and ferns provide camouflage, It has a bell round its neck to warn birds of its presence. So it has to keep very still while it stalks me. For a moment, I know what it's like to be a bird.
1 comment:
Your cat-stalking paragraph is funny and reminds me of a cat-stalking I had many years ago in New Orleans.
We were visiting the big cats at Audubon Park Zoo. I got the bright (?!) idea to stalk the lion in the center cage and hunkered down on the cage side of the barrier, creeping along, eyes locked on the lion, which was watching me but sitting rock still.
I heard my mother scream my name and looked back just in time to see a huge tiger paw, claws fully extended, reaching toward me through the bars from the cage next to the lion.
Seems I wasn't the only one stalking prey that afternoon.
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