tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post2630283005928426651..comments2024-03-18T10:29:46.055+00:00Comments on Ken Armstrong Writing Stuff: The Wild Finds a WayKen Armstronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-27460213460978586552019-12-09T07:39:28.624+00:002019-12-09T07:39:28.624+00:00What a beautiful piece. Thank you Ken, a wonderfu...What a beautiful piece. Thank you Ken, a wonderful start to a day, as I'm reading this before I get up. Life is not always easy and I'm glad that natural joy brings happiness to your sister in law. <br />Brid. <br /><br />Brid Qhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13246076289208899524noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-13951763574141692422019-12-08T17:49:06.206+00:002019-12-08T17:49:06.206+00:00Wow! To your words Ken and to Jim's. Just Wow...Wow! To your words Ken and to Jim's. Just Wow! And big love to Penelope. And Patricia. ❤Audrey Maughamhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00847283083756976402noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-39632976897596709472019-12-08T16:10:50.061+00:002019-12-08T16:10:50.061+00:00I’m of the opinion a home is not a home without an...I’m of the opinion a home is not a home without an animal <i>in situ</i>. Children, atrocious little beasts that they are, are a distraction for a while but after a year or two as they begin to calm down you start to look around and wonder what’s missing. I’ve lived with animals and without and despite the inconvenience they cause—they can be needy little buggers (even the cats)—they invariably give more than they take. <br /><br />It’s much the same with wild animals. No matter what it is (with, perhaps, the exception of a wild bear or tiger careering towards me full throttle) I’m always pleased to see any kind of creature when I’m out and about. Even insects although I remember there being many more when I was a child than I encounter now although to be fair I couldn’t tell you the last time I flipped over a rock to see what was under it.<br /><br />My wife, as you’ll know from her Facebook feed, is a bit of a birder (not twitcher, a twitcher is a type of birder). She only watches what can been see from the window at the side of our flat but every morning she feeds her army of followers and then snaps and films as long as there’s something to see. (Not sure she’s observed any wagtails but I lose track.) It didn’t take them long to cotton on and these days as the sun rises it’s not unusual to have a few jays, a pigeon and even a squirrel or two sitting there patiently waiting on their breakfast. Which means we’ll be doing this until we’re both dead and you can be sure that if Carrie goes before me—she does have a twelve year head start—I’ll take over where she left off because that’s what you do. They’re <i>her</i> birds now. And squirrels. And the odd fox or very odd deer although she’s not worked out how to feed them… yet. <br /><br />My mum would’ve been proud of her. If it moved Mum’d feed it. She even had a robin that came to the back doorstep and let her feed him by hand. And boy was she sad when he failed to reappear the following year. “The world would be a better place without people,” she said often and meant it and I never tried to argue with her; I knew she had far too much evidence to back up her assertion.Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.com