Unhatched

The Spotted Flycatchers are still diligently raising their young - or were when I wrote this. I am in advance of myself, as it were.

That is the good news.

At the Reserve the other day we went out to clear the nestboxes. All the babies that had hatched and fledged had flown away. Most of the boxes were empty. One contained one dead bird - the other seven had gone. One was full of dead birds. Mischa said that both the parents must have died. One showed signs of predation - half a wing.

Life, I thought, doesn't need me; but it sure does knead me.

My cherry tree is being eaten alive by black creatures. It shrinks by the day. I feel awful: my fault for weakening it. The lilac loses shoots almost as fast as it produces them: the pigeons knock of some, the rain others.

It's tough. I mean, it pains me. Where are the creatures who should be eating those black creatures?

Oh and the orange tree has those damned scale insects again. Every year it comes. I will have to hack it back. Again. I hate to do that.

But, there is a happier bit of news to relate: Leanne's trail camera has filmed cubs. I don't know how many. She is delighted as she has seen just one young badger on the film so far. Lots of crows stealing eggs, though!