The sound of a nagging lamb wakes me from a deep slumber always filled with improbable adventure stories and random characters many of them from family casting some who are still alive but often I am joined by the dead (how comforting to spend time with mum in my dreams).

My sleep disrupter is Luna calling plaintively for the bottle of milk she no longer needs. I give in and stumble downstairs to heat three bottles; one for Luna, one for Radish and the third for Rosemary, knowing that Ginny (Domino’s huge bottle-fed daughter) will hang around her three half-sisters hoping that I will feed her too. No chance but there’s no harm in trying. Some days Poddy (a fully grown ewe who is about 6 years old) will remember her bottle-fed infancy and line up to suck from a bottle thinking that she too is a lamb. I stroke her and tell her not to be so silly.

As I feed the girls, one at a time, the male song thrush belts out his complex notes to guard his territory. Just as I thrill to the calls of “grandma” from any of my grandchildren the notes of the song thrush delight me again and again. I never tire of either sound.

Click below for the song thrush as well as the sound of the common chiff chaff, ring necked dove, wood pigeon, corvids, robin and the background noise of our cockerels.

A friend of mine has a subscription to Claude Ai. They asked Claude to read this, my blog, from January 2026 until present and to write a story about Mabel based on what Claude had read. I think the style asked for was Beatrix Potter. Of course the material was mine but the story and its construction was Claude’s and all in a minute!

With going home gifts of rhubarb and jam and a book

The Morning Mabel Stole the Butter

Told by Mabel the Cat

Mabel wished to make one thing absolutely clear: she had not stolen the butter. She had merely investigated the butter knife, which had been left out in a highly provocative manner on the kitchen counter, and which smelled, she felt, as though it needed attending to.

Nigel, naturally, took all the credit for being the mischievous one on the farm. Nigel with his dramatic hunting. Nigel sleeping in his sheepskin box. Nigel stealing drops from the lamb bottles in full view of everyone, grinning his unrepentant grin.

Mabel preferred to operate quietly. She waited until the kitchen was empty. She ascended to the counter in one fluid motion. She attended to the butter knife with great thoroughness.

When the Farmer returned and found her there, Mabel descended with equal dignity, sat down, and began to wash her face. She had never been in the kitchen. She did not know what a butter knife was.

Nigel, watching from the doorway, looked almost impressed.“There are two kinds of cats, Mabel reflected. Those who are caught, and those who are not. Mabel had simply misjudged the timing, that was all. It would not happen again. (It happened twice more).

We walked through a farm which raises hundreds or maybe thousands of truly free range hens

Planted by the husband, watered by the wife – pretty for months

Sown indoors and gradually potted on and put in the polytunnel then planted in abandoned tyres that we rescued from the side of the road a few years ago.

They will give colour snd pleasure all through the summer until the first frosts or until a gale blows them over. I have several more to plant out. I’m waiting until they are bigger and stronger.

There were feathers on the ground and one of the ducks was missing. I think she might have been nesting outside in the run overnight snd an opportunist badger came and found her. Now there are 14 ducks and, as of yesterday afternoon, the sitting duck in the house decided to get off her eggs. Meanwhile the two wild drakes were exploring the garden

And when I walked down to the goose pond they slipped off into the field but didn’t fly away

The wild duck has not been seen for a while and I hope that she is nesting in the banks of the goose pond.

Nigel, the opportunist, waits until they finish and hopes that there’s a drop left for him

Click below

It was a perfect start to another beautiful day

An hour later