Not many remaining antlers now and the general moult is visible on the coat of this stag. Another,smaller, antler has been found by Treacle, now firmly established as the leading retriever on the moor.
Sadly but predictably a mindless character has attacked the bench at Lenny Hill in search of immortality. But then the idea of scratching a poem around the edged of the bench was always likely to lead to some idiot trying to do the same.
The bird song around here is always worth stopping for. At the moment it's mainly thrushes and robins with the calling of great tits in accompaniment and loud shouts from a green woodpecker. So far my hearing has not picked up any warblers.
This egg is the size of a standard hen's egg so I'm assuming it's from a bird at least as big as a curlew
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