It’s been busy here in dog-blog land since you last heard from me. You see, there is ‘something’ living in our thicket. An intruder so to speak! It has become necessary for Missy and me to stalk up and down its brambly length in a concerted effort at territorial protection.
My human can hear it rustling and is hoping it’s a small bird’s nest in the depths of the Escallonia Macrantha. Little Missy is capable of crawling beneath the bush on scouting expeditions. She regularly forages deeply and at length between it and the wild Fuschia which supports it from behind. Occasionally she sits at its perimeter, absolutely motionless, as still as a statue, listening. These attentive sessions can last for extremely long periods of time. I’m just not able to do that so I continue parading up & down, or sometimes if I think I’m outside her peripheral vision I just plop and snooze briefly. But don’t tell her that!
I would dearly love to follow her almost endless forays (apart from being interested I’d hate to be labeled lazy or idle) but unfortunately, although I wouldn’t describe myself as a large dog, I simply cannot fit. So be it! I must content myself by offering a rearguard protection to the intrepid grafter.
Something tells me a bird’s nest might be a disappointing discovery for Missy. Methinks she would prefer to find a mischief of rats in their den. As for me; I was thinking of a nice spiny hedgehog or a cuddly bunny rabbit. Or maybe a cat with kittens (but not the large, panther-like one we saw a few weeks ago).
So far we are none the wiser as to the cause but the rippling & crispy sounds continue. And so must we. Hour after hour we maintain guard. Sometimes we do a split shift Where I rest and Missy scouts vigilantly along our boundary … or vice versa where I work and she reclines. But if the murmurs are constant we both steward simultaneously. It’s quite an extended hedgerow which doubles as a windbreak so the duties are utterly onerous. It’s thirsty work. And in the middle of a drought no less!!
Missy’s preferred anchor spot is near the oil tank behind the shed. I suppose u could call it the tram line in tennis terms. (I’m learning!!) I prefer a more central role and act as an ace monitor from the T of the service line- or if you prefer plain language, the spot where the pergola was smashed to pieces in last year’s hurricane.
Watch this space 👁
‘The Robin’s Return’ on piano by Gil Dech is a pleasurable, intricate, inspiring tune to accompany our continued search 🎼🐾