Bountiful Time

Winter is sketched as being a time of scarcity, when cold conditions place severe restraints on the ability of prey animals to capture food. They make hay whilst the sun shines, as it were, and stock up on food, fat and energy before the advancing wintery season.

It looks like Coco The Cat has also read that book… Yet Coco is still enjoying a bountiful hunting season.

Today is the third day that I have either seen Coco returning from a field hunt, or I have stumbled on the remains of a result of one of his hunts. This afternoon, he came stalking through the long weedy and daisy-covered grass of the lawn, stepping carefully, almost chameleon-like, as if carrying a fragile parcel.

(Above): Coco’s view as he approaches the kitchen yard.

In his mouth. With a long thin grey tail.

(Above): By this stage, Coco is ready to share the view of his catch with me. He is purring loudly and proudly. Coco, that is, not the mouse. The little creature is stone dead. Dead as a doornail. Dead as a Norwegian Parrot.

“Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.”

“Oh yes, the, uh, the Norwegian Blue...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?”

“I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'E's dead, that's what's wrong with it!”

“No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.”

“Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.”

Coco tries in vain to resuscitate the little rodent. The mouse lies motionless and Coco’s  interest in the game of cat-and-mouse visibly starts waning. He steps towards me and rubs against my legs, purring loudly.

Oh-oh. Bennie the Labrador has noticed the increased activity on this area of the lawn, and ambles across to investigate. I give him the “Leave!” command as he gingerly smells the little mouse. He obeys without question or hesitation. 

As a precaution, Coco sidles up to Bennie and stands his ground as he stares at the Labrador, ever so slightly in a confrontational manner. Bennie backs off and returns to lie in the shade of the tree.

Flowerese

As I was expecting a phone-call from the electrician, and Vernon our flooring guy was still busy with his noisy grinding machine in the hallway, it seemed a good idea to retreat into the conservatory, which is a bit more isolated and soundproofed from the grinder.

If it wasn’t for the fact that the conservatory becomes extremely hot around midday onwards, and if I was an author, then I would most certainly spend the lion’s share of my time in the conservatory – one could not wish for a better natural environment setting, sights and sounds.

Whilst thinking about formulating the subject matter for the next blog (being the fixing down of the vinyl floor), my attention wandered over to the edge of the lawn, where Coco the Cat frequently sits, deep in thought, generally with his back to the open lawn.

(Above): One of the spots near the rose trellis, where Coco the Cat frequently sits quite motionless for up to an hour on occasions. He does not lie down and sleep: no, this is a sitting up, posture-aware, deep-in-thought kitty.

Firstly, I must apologise to Brynn (and to Coco) for spelling his name with a “a” suffix – Cocoa instead of Coco. I was under the impression that the cat contained brown-ish cocoa-ish coloured fur, rather than resembling a French fashion lady or the Latvian Nicolai Poliakoff’s famous silly clown.

Some 30 minutes later, Coco is still looking at the lone flower.

(Above): The jury is still out – the possibilities are really endless. Perhaps some readers of this blog would like to come up with intelligent suggestions, because this ritual repeats itself on a very regular, if not daily, basis.

At best, Coco may have learned Flowerese, the language used by flowers to communicate with other plants. Or Coco may simply be considering the gardening options as to the various alternatives which could be planted for the upcoming summer season.

Or perhaps he’s heard of that human occupation of watching the grass grow?

Reikorangi Big Game Hunters

New Zealand has a reputation as being a “green” pristine country with all the beauties of nature on show. Just as important, there are no territorial (land) snakes, native or imported, no lions, no tigers or any other such nasties which can kill you.

However, there is a small team of big game hunters in the Reikorangi Valley, to hunt down and capture the wild creatures around here: Below, we bring you a scoop preview of the team members and examples of their hauls:

Benny, the hedgehog king. He can hold even the biggest and heaviest of these hardy critters in his mouth, without damaging his cheeks or gums. Benny is probably the Reikorangi hunter king with a large tally of nocturnal hedgehogs to his name.

 
Sophie has recently demonstrated her prowess by capturing and bringing home this bunny, without really harming it. Rumour has it that the bunny died of heart failure. She has only caught one (so far) – on Goat’s Hill.

Cocoa caught this wee mouselet this afternoon. (see yellow arrow and outline). We couldn’t get a decent photo of the agile mite, not even one in focus. But then, again, Cocoa is not much of a hunter – he’s quite good at snoozing.  Sorry, Cocoa.

Christmas on Boxing Day

At the Wellington airport, sailing clear through customs without a hiccough, we were greeted by Bianca, Brynn, Clayton and Tyler at around 00:45 on Boxing Day.

An uneventful trip along the SH1 northwards, found us at Chartwell and opening Christmas gifts with lashings of warm coffee until about 3:30am, after excited introduction to Benny and Sophie – what affectionate pets!  Bedtime was welcomed by all, in anticipation of a re-scheduled Christmas as agreed.

A few hours later, we enjoyed an informal Christmas breakfast and a stroll around the property to familiarise ourselves with the various aspects of the garden, the happenings of the recent past, and explanations of anticipated developments to be tackled in the garden.

All Black Tyler demonstrating his passing techniques to dad Clayton, with the aid of his Gilbert rugby ball Xmas present. Clayton was attired in the customary tartan kit.

 

Jeanette was feeling out of this world, quite astounded by the splendour of some of the many fine displays of hydrangeas all over the garden.

While waiting for the gammon to be done on the bar-b-q, a few drinks were enjoyed under the warm but cloudy sky on the lawn next to the kitchen herb garden.

Followed by a walkabout to the lower cliff garden and to inspect the recently-erected fence, designed to keep Bennie and Sophie from getting at the dogs on the neighbouring property to the south of Chartwell.

Back towards the house, we passed through the pergola which separates the western and eastern lawns.

Purple flowers offering their juices to the busy bees…

Clayton and Tyler head past the new veggie garden towards the proposed future chicken coop. They will be free-range, organic and happy creatures. They will be so happy that they will lay dozens of fresh breakfast eggs. Clayton assured everyone that he is on top of the matter, and virtually knows everything about chooks that is needed. We shall wait and see…

Whilst walking around the grounds, were constantly “tailed” by Coco, the cat. Here, Coco presents his best end as he disappears back towards the house.

Another huge blue and white hydrangea display looking northwards.

Sitting down to Xmas dinner of traditional crackers, French champagne (given by the Real Estate agent when they purchased the house, and saved for this special occasion), gammon, chicken, roast potatoes, and a selection of fresh vegetables, followed by a huge bowl of trifle.