Smaller birds and other masters of the universe

The Lady in Malcolm's life is assiduous in providing for the denizens of the London suburban air.

This means that Malcolm's morning mocha (with the added foam from his milk frother notified previously) is diverted by the arrrivals and departures:

09:54 Blackbird Airlines arrives, refuels, departs;
09:55 Air Robin arrived from laburnum bush, swift turnaround;
09:56 Chaffinch shorthaul drops in, and heads out;
09:57 Pigeon post ...

and so on. With luck there'll be the resident wren and the bullfinches and the blue-tits ...

Further down the lawn, the jays come and go. There have been as many as five jackdaws in the beech tree at the same time. The grey squirrels flit from fence to fence (what divides the human territories provides their highways). Early morning the local vixen made her passing loping appearance.

Paul the gardener assures Malcolm that the stag-beetles and the newts will show again in the spring, that the toads and the odd hedgehog are still around.

All non-human life is here.

Soothing. Normal. Adds whole dimensions of proper proportion.

The Lady and Malcolm just pay the Council Tax.

For more consolation, there's Highgate Wood at the top of the road, and always wise old Kipling:

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