Someone ought to update this blog! You can’t just pretend to be busy all the time. sigh…I suppose it’ll have to be me…
I am like my father. Big and strong. I stomp, stomp, stomp up the hallway. I kill shoes. I strop my claws on the sofa. I am defiant. This morning, at 4 o’clock, I jumped on their bed and demanded breakfast. She said it was too early and shoo-ed me out and shut the door. HAH! They thought they were safe because it’s a knob, not a latch sort of handle. But I ran all the way up the hall and hurled myself up at the knob…then I jumped on the bed and purred, basso profundo, in Her ear. Door knob? Piece of cake!
Honestly! These bipeds need such a lot of help, don’t they? The Man needed us to help do something he called bleeding the brakes. I t was not difficult.
And, of course, Sporran and I have to help when She goes across the road to feed the Dog. We make sure there are no mouses or beetles or geckos.And we let the Dog know what we will do to him if he comes too close.
Yesterday, a Spangled Drongo bird was here all morning. I didn’t take much notice, but Sporran climbed a tree to have a closer look. And Dinah got that damn’ camera again. Don’t know why she bothers really. As soon as she creeps in, close and sneaky, the bird flies higher. And she has to do fiddly things with the knobby bit on the camera. Then the bird flies higher…Quite amusing, really. Apparently, Drongos are very good mimics. We are looking forward to hearing the Drongo repeat some of the words Dinah says.
I think it’s time I repossessed my blog. Sod off Thankyou, Geiger. Why don’t you go downstairs and play motor mechanic?
Back to that Drongo…he is listed, officially, by the Latin monica of Dicrurus bracteata which might seem a bit of a mouthful, but surely is better than being a drongo! In this country, to be called a drongo (or a silly galah) is an insult to one’s intelligence.
At this time of year the Drongos seem more active, although they are around most of the time. Their chief call is quite a harsh chyat-chyat-chyat sound. But then, just to surprise and delight us (well, me at least!), they’ll toss in a few completely different notes and, as if pleased with that sound, will warble up and down their “new” scale, making adjustments, adding new chords. I wish I could write music.
No luck with the camera, I resorted to the pen. The rich, velvety black mantle and the shot silk spangles always make me think of an evening gown.
A miserable effort, but here it is. The scanner has picked up far too much of that green-blue; it’s really more slate-y. Oh, yes! For something more accurate, I’ve given you a link.
And I stumbled across a most interesting link for printmakers. A tad late to be a part of International Printmakers Day this year, but 2010 is earmarked!
Two prints have been submitted to our local gallery and now I wait to hear whether I’ve made the cut. Or not.
That zebra has undergone some fetlock ” surgery” and will be traced-off when the shops re-open and I can get some carbon paper. I struggled so much to draw this one I’m not going to risk a direct freehand onto a plate. Do I look like a drongo!
Have I been griping about the heat lately? Probably! Well, griping is done til next summer. On Friday, almost at the throw of a switch, the wind swung from sou-easter to southerly and I don’t think it’s much exaggeration to suggest that it didn’t stop anywhere on its way up from the Ross Ice Shelf! I don’t mind. Or at least, I wont mind once I’ve dug out the woollies! Swimming is going to be, shall we say…interesting for the next few months!
I think a cooked lunch is called for today. Squally showers add to the chill and the appetite is for something with a little heat. Roasted vegetables, on filo, topped with feta and pine nuts, I think.