This time I dashed to open it, nearly breaking my ankle on the stairs but once again zilch. So frowning I went to check the patio doors. Nada…
At this point if it had been my son I can assure you, he would have regretted wasting my time.
The poem ‘Someone’ came to mind:-
Someone came knocking at my wee, small door;
Someone came knocking; I'm sure-sure-sure;
I listened, I opened, I looked to left and right,
But nought there was a stirring in the still dark night;
Only the busy beetle tap-tapping in the wall,
Only from the forest the screech-owl's call,
Only the cricket whistling while the dewdrops fall,
So I know not who came knocking, at all, at all, at all.
Walter de la Mare
Here he is in all his finery…
Since that day I've watched him and he has been a regular caller both very early in the morning and late in the evenings. And he doesn’t seem to get the weekends off!
He spends enormous energy attacking his reflected image with gusto. He has at times even brought his ‘Birrrrrrrrrrrrd’ to watch his male prowess. I’m not sure if she’s impressed or just stunned by his stupidity. It’s hard to tell.
He has now been named ‘Gregory’ (you may well cringe here and rightly so – as in "Mr. Peck")
I hope you appreciate how long it has taken me to obtain this photo of ‘Gregory’ because once he’s fired up, he’s extremely observant and takes flight as soon as anyone gets near. I've been like an SAS commando crawling on all fours or hanging over the decking virtually absailing to catch him in the act.
Note to self: If I ever get an action shot I'll post it.
I’ve also heard what I assume are his taps on the garage window but maybe that’s the next generation on their turf. I do hope not. Heaven help us if ‘Greg’ has passed on this tradition… it’ll drive us all crazy….tap, tap, tap, tap, tap!
P.S. By the way apologies to my son for the false accusation!