We sat out in the garden while a flock of starlings – yeah, we know it’s a murmuration but it seemed to try a bit hard – wheeled and swooped above us. LT asked if we usually have swallows, swifts and other summer visitors (apart from the cuckoo, which we heard throughout the spring and early summer) and I said yes, we usually do. I have seen swallows this year, but not in the last few weeks – early evening is usually the time to watch them, but there aren’t many insects about for them to catch. I’m not sure how bats are getting on either in the hot weather. There have been no clouds of gnats, no biting insects at all – which is good for us, but not for the creatures which live on them.
One of the cattle on the field got out today – a neighbour knocked on the door; she and her other half had spotted him and made sure he didn’t leave the drive, and another couple were driving past and they parked their car across the drive entrance. I thanked them of course, and they looked mildly disappointed when they saw how biddable the young bullock was. I patted him on the rump and he strolled back down the drive. LT stopped him going the wrong way at the fork, and then went to open the gate, but he hopped back through the gap in the fence … ah. Tim temporarily mended it while I texted Johnny to let him know. It all needs tightening up so that it can’t happen again. but they’ve plenty of food, even though the grass has all turned to hay, so they’re not anxious to get out: or anyway, they haven’t been so far.
What’s a bit worrying is that this all seems normal to me. Tim copes splendidly, of course, but only because he is, actually, splendid. I don’t even realise that it isn’t what everyone deals with on a daily basis.