Big White Teddy Bears

Spring cleaning is somehow infectious once it takes hold, simply keeping going and coping with the accumulated clutter from our wet winter is no longer enough, the fresh emerald green and sticky buds inspire a dormant set of feelings that thrust me forward into clearing up, moving stuff from one pile to another, having a bonfire of what is left and then seeing that there are numerous jobs still to do. Our eyasses grow at a fantastic rate and then quite suddenly growth is almost over, a period of patient calm arises whilst new feathers emerge from white down, excitement in daily inspection of what colour each will turn out to be? For Emma the most hectic part is completed, feeding changes to three times a day, then two as full crops are slower to digest, she can sunbathe on the front shelf, drying herself from a longed for bath after the weeks of incubation and brooding.

I was woken at 4.30 with hawks hecking loudly from all the aviaries. Often it would be the arrival of a heron looking for fish in the pond adjacent to the house but now long since emptied by their visits they have become infrequent. Looking out the bedroom window into the gloaming dusky  shadows under low braches of the conker tree, heavy with new leaves and branches weighed down with her 'candles' of flowers, I can only just see there is a muntjac doe grazing some spring flowers, almost invisible as her coat appears to take on the surrounding colours of bark and vegetation; the hecking continues as more hawks join in the ruckus, the muntjac oblivious it seems. I clap my hands, no response, the hecking seems even louder, surely it must soon wake the whole village! "Hey you, muntjac, clear off" but no response. I shout louder, now the village will know!

I think how difficult it is to outwit deer when I am stalking, it's astounding at how calmly they can take everyday commotion. A few days ago mother and fawn were in the habit of commuting  through the garden each evening  to the bird feeder to scavenge the sunflower seeds dropped by our small hoard of house sparrows. It's shockingly unexpected to see one looking in through the glass of the French doors apparently checking on us and the dogs looking back, galling to see her casually eat off another tulip for desert. Deceptively gently they move around the vegetation, carefully selective of each mouthful as they progress their tour. My friend Angela thought to send her whippets to chase off her deer in a similar circumstance not knowing just how easily the fragile looking muntjac can look after itself, armed with small tusk like teeth with a razors edge, both her pet whippets were easily sliced open in self defence. Big bills from the vet and now two dogs that think it their duty to seek out these small deer, and ongoing worry when she lives in the forest.

As eventually this small deer moves out of the shadows into the light by the hedge to pass directly in front of Emma's aviary, her well grown eyasses bigger than mother, like big white teddy bears, can see the passing muntjac from their gravelly nest-ledge and decide to join in with mother's complaints with their eerie, deep, more penetrating sound invoking haunting images of arctic wilderness, from these big Gyr female hybrids, 'heck, heck, heck, heck.......' in deep choral trio. How much noise can a few birds make in the silent stillness of first light of morning? At last  the doe ducks through the hedge, rooks are still talking amongst their nests, a blackbird is still singing, tranquillity returns in a moment.

Back to bed but little chance of sleep now, after a few minutes it's obvious that the day has started and a cup of Earl Grey obvious before plucking the first wood pigeons of the day, breakfast for the eyasses, reassuring Emma that routine remains as normal. Spring cleaning still awaits.