Bats.  I had a bit of a bat moment early this morning.  Our field gate has a chain and padlock on it, and I needed to open it.  It was only just dawn and as I fumbled in the half-light to insert my key, my sleep-deprived brain registered that the padlock was surprisingly furry.  Then the padlock gave a squeak and flew away because actually it was a bat.   Both bat and me got an energising jolt of adrenalin, and another delightful close encounter with a different species.

Still no lamb from Foxy (I’ve given up on her, I think she’s got too comfortable in her maternity suite, guzzling meadow hay and not getting on with it so I’m going to let her out with Lupin and the girls today – if that doesn’t do it, nothing well).

When I strolled into the lambing shed a few days ago, a small brown projectile whizzed past my ear, said PEEP! at the sort of pitch that shatters wine glasses and melts earwax, and vanished into the open air.  When I had a quick look in the direction it came from, I found a beautiful nest, cunningly woven from hay (Foxy’s hay), straw (Foxy’s straw) and dead leaves built into the stash of dandy brushes etc that I keep up there to groom the horses.  The nest contained some small pale eggs with red freckles on them, I didn’t linger to count them in case I upset the proud mama who I was sure was lurking close by.

I had a very cautious look today, when I’d given up telling Foxy to get moving, and the nest is full of tiny fuzzy chicks with enormous yellow beaks.  They really are sweet.  From a quick google, I think they are robin chicks and they are my consolation prize as Foxy continues to stay in one piece.  I’m not sure how long it takes robin chicks to fledge, but I’m going to have to use a different set of brushes for the time being.