Winged beasts

It is becoming obvious that serious athletes live here. The lawn is dying in specific patches where badminton oponents have faced one another. The apple trees are hung with shuttlecocks, waiting for a passing breeze, or autumn, whichever comes first - though to be fair, the weather was just right today - not too hot. Racquets lie ready in the greenhouse.

This evening we played till it was too dark to see. With dusk came a dragonfly and some little bats - pipistrelles, I would guess. I was surprised to see the dragonfly as I thought they needed hot sunshine for their muscles to be warm enough to work - but there you are - he was flying about most successfully. There is a lovely smell in the evening from the night-scented stock - it looks nothing in the day but in the evening the flowers open and a honey fragrance is released. I think the moths like it too.

Moving seamlessly on - at school yesterday the supply teacher, who has a passion for British natural history, was giving a lesson on garden birds. One of the birds on the children's list was a Stock Dove. I'd never heard of such a creature, but there it was in all the books, one of the common garden birds. I don't know how I could have missed it. It seems to be a combination of Collared Dove and Wood Pigeon. Maybe that's the one I hear each morning singing in the gardens round about, "You're very nice, ....... you're very nice." Sweet bird.