I thought that W would be the sticking place, but it turns out that Z is. Z pronounced Zed of course. Yes, it’s my blogname, but that would be cheating.
Anyway, what I wanted to call this post was Wren will I see you again? Yesterday, the Sage went to fetch logs for the fire, which are kept in the front porch (What? Yes, of course it’s normal. For Norfolk). He came back saying he’d had to leave the door open as the wren which lives in the porch had flown in. Later, no sign of her (all wrens are deemed to be Jenny, just as robins are habitually Cock) so he shut the door.
I was in bed reading when he came in from the bathroom. He exclaimed something I didn’t catch, and then I became aware of a swooping flying creature – not a bat but the wren. They’re impossible to catch, you know. Far too small and they move in an instant. In the end, after padding nakedly and ineffectually round the bedroom (it’s a large bedroom and the bird was much quicker than us) for a while, we opened windows on both sides of the house (that part of the house is one room deep, so there’s a window both east and west) and huddled under the bedclothes. We decided that it was going to exhaust it to chase it any more, so it might as well roost in our room and then go out in the morning.
Luckily, the wind had dropped and it was not a cold night. Not cold for November, that is. But every time I woke in the night, my feet were still cold. No sign of the wren this morning. I haven’t been up yet to check for guano.