Norman, the Norway Rat

Who is that having a breakfast of birdseed with the squirrel? It is Norman, the Norway rat.

Maybe it was all the weekly chips that Mom threw out the back door after her fish and chips, (before we moved in). Maybe it’s all the birdseed I thought I was putting out for the birds. But there was Norman, the Norway rat.

Kind-of-cute, except for his tail. He bounded away like a miniature kangaroo. Hopefully, if we stop feeding him, he will go away.

The Death of a Tree

The man in the yellow helmet in the cherry picker has arrived. I saw him at the neighbours down the street. At first I thought he was working on the hydro lines, but then he started cutting the tree.

I thought, at first, that he was just giving it a trim, but then he kept on going. “He’s going to cut the whole tree down,” my husband said. “No, he can’t do that!” I said.

But then he did. Branch by branch. It was too horrible to watch. It was like something living was being killed. Which it was.

Just for the Heck of It.

The squirrel was jerking back and forth uncontrollably in the grass. I was really worried about it. Had it got caught in some wire or a line?

I had thrown a thin branch into the grass from the garden and the squirrel was grabbing it and twirling under it and at one point it jumped straight up, at least half a foot, into the air.

And then I understood. It wasn’t caught or hurt. It was having fun.