A quiet life in the country?

It’s all happening here. I was just about to settle down to a bit of work (being on my own today, and well recovered from my l-o-n-g trip to Carlisle) when an unholy shrieking kicked up outside. It was a kestrel attacking a smaller bird – not sure what – on the ground, right in front of the kitchen window. When I ran out, both the birds flew away. The smaller one had a posse of friends, all screaming at the kestrel; they carried on with their shrill warning well after the predator had gone.

Then the cuckoo started. He’s in our back garden somewhere, and clocks in (see what I did there?) at about 2.30 each afternoon, for ages. A sound from childhood. Then the cat, Captain Oates, started capering about in the sunshine, and fell off the wheelbarrow…  He came scuttling in when the red kites appeared; seven of them wheeling round and mewing with their incongruously wimpish call.

So how am I supposed to work with this lot going on?

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