Mrs Tiggywinkle and company

One evening, when it was still light, I saw the hedgehog out and about. I remembered Clare's "Out in the day, not OK!" And ran up the garden path to lay out her favourite food - peanuts and dog treats.

A short while later, I peaked up the path and saw her there, eating.

Clare said that if she was walking purposefully, she was just, most likely, taking time away from the kids to feed up, and not to worry.

The following evening, I went up to lay out the food, and as I was doing so, saw a prickly form scuttle into the bushes just 18 inches from where I crouched. I hadn't even noticed she was right there until she moved. I walked down the path and waited. Five minutes later, she came back and started eating.

Clare said the hoglets are the size of tennis balls when they start foraging for themselves. I would love to see them.

I am happy that the magpies and jays have been feeding regularly from the garden. As well as the little birds, of course. One little bird, as brave as the dunnocks and nearly as brave as Son of Bob, had me scratching my head in the attempt to work out what he was. I was fairly sure it was a tit and the confusing colour suggested a juvenile. A bit of googling, and, yes, juvenile great tit. It was sweet as SoB and a dunnock were sitting side by side under the honeysuckle, watching me. Then both flew to the little-bird-food-place in a plant pot to be joined by another dunnock and the tit.

On the subject of the robins, the issue becomes ever more complex. A third robin, whom I shall call Tiny, appeared. This one is, indeed, tiny and is also perfect. She looks like a Christmas card. She ate from my hand twice. Then flew off and I realised the bruiser had appeared. He will not eat from my hand, but I can put my hand almost up to his feet as he perches under the honeysuckle. He just looks at the food then shows me where he wants it - in the plant pot. He flies and lands all around me. As I was attending to him, I saw in the corner of my eye, Original Bob, who appears more battered and bruised every time I see him. I tried to give him food but SoB objected and he flew away.

Now, I am charmed by Sob but the state of Bob makes me very sad. Robins are aggressive little birds and, having raised children and now, perhaps, drained and maybe moulting, Bob doesn't have the energy to defend this garden as well as wherever he nested.

The birds have been restricted in their feeding by some torrential rain over the last few days (this is mid July - sorry to confuse you, as you reed in August). But the plants love it. More roses than ever before.