During the almost two years we have lived in this house, and despite lavish offerings of food dispensed through a bewildering variety of bought and home-made feeders, we've had few birds come in to our garden - the occasional dunnock, a blackbird, and a rare blue tit. So it was with mixed feelings that we sat in our conservatory this lunchtime and watched a rat mimic a bird. First he/she climbed into the cotoneaster, from which....
....much to our amazement he/she launched herself at the bird table, managing....
....to get a grip on the wooden post and then fighting his/her way up under the overhang and....
....onto the table, which had just been laden with the birds' lunch.
Despite being shoed away several times, the rat kept returning. Gill was upset - she thinks rats are dirty - but I liked him/her. Our dislike of them stems from the knowledge that they are direct rivals to us, having as broad a taste in food, an enviable ability to produce hoards of children, and being almost as intelligent. That we live in a rural area, next to a field which this year had barley in it, and in which there are mounds of grain scattered from the harvest, means that this sort of wildlife is bound to take up residence.
Despite this, I did move the bird table away from the shrub....
....but I look forward to seeing the rat back, this time shinning the whole way up the bird table's post.
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