At dawn this morning, they were there as they so often are, the bunnies in the hay barn. They retreat there to hide from the buzzard at first light. They share the barn with Hedwig and family.
Woody the red-flash was at the fat balls and the sparrows waited underneath for manna.
And soon after I mentioned goaty-mc-goat-face, I saw stoaty-mc-stoat-face enter the hay barn and sneak past one of the bunnies along the top of the bales. His white flash belly giving him away, to my eyes. The bunny did not see him or hear him. He moves very fast. We are not quite sure where he lives, probably not in the hay barn, perhaps in the one with all the machinery. Perhaps he is after some breakfast.
I do hope Mr Pheasant the hen fancier drops by this afternoon, to try to chat up the ladies. The posh men with guns will be out today and he is safer in our garden than under the sticks of the beaters.