One day, when I was going to work, I didn't see Bobbit in the morning or when I went out at midday before leaving for London. I had waited. I was worried. I did the job and finished at 1:30am. In the car park at work, I could hear a robin singing. I was thinking about all the artificial lights. I was worrying about the bird using precious energy when it was cold and damp.
I got home at 3am. Opened the car door and heard a robin singing.
I had this horrible feeling that it was a message. But when I came out the next day, Bobbit, straight away.
Bobbit will take the odd treat from my hand, though on this occasion he pecked my fingers the first time. Maybe he was chastising me?
He gets his fair share of chastisement. I am sure the blue tits were shouting at him.
My fascination with the garden-goings-on is ceaseless. I can spend an age just watching.
I remember when I was in Moscow going to the theatre to watch plays in Russian. I had no idea what was going on - except by the behaviour and the facial expressions, the tone of voice, the direction of a gaze. It is rather like that. To see all these interactions and to miss so much.
Yes you'd be relieved to see Bobbit first thing that morning. And that's a good comparison - the innumerable garden interactions and shenanigans -- and watching/ listening to the Russian plays.