Morning Dispatch: The 7:05am Tax Raid

I’m starting to think Felicity has me under 24-hour surveillance.
5:30am – She arrives like a civilised resident. One pouch of dog food, one chicken drumstick. She eats the dog food delicately, picks up the drumstick like a takeaway order, and leaves with her dignity intact. 6:00am – I top up the pigeon feeding station. It disappears faster than free beer at a wedding. 7:00am – Second top-up for the pigeons (because I’m not putting food on the lawn while she’s around). Nuts in the squirrel house. Cat food deployed for the Magpie Air Force and Russell.

7:05am – Felicity materialises out of thin air like a ginger fucking ghost and hoovers up the cat food before the magpies even had a chance to file a complaint.This woman has the timing of a Swiss watch and the morals of a pirate. She’s not just visiting anymore. She’s running a protection racket. “Nice bird food you’ve got there… be a shame if something happened to it.”At this point I’m not feeding a fox.
I’m paying protection money to the neighbourhood mafia boss who happens to be ginger and extremely good at looking innocent.
------------------------Meanwhile, Fatima is currently sunbathing without her sad ghost shade cover because it’s only 13°C and due to cloud over. She’s looking surprisingly perky for a drama queen. I’ll check the soil when I do the birdbath rounds.The thin canes are officially useless (they bend like wet spaghetti), but the new bird feeding station poles with stabilisers are arriving today. Between those and Tom on Wednesday, we might actually get her some proper shade before she throws another wobbly.Current Cafe Score:

• Felicity: 2 (one polite breakfast + one successful heist)
• Magpies & Crows: 0 (robbed again)
• Me: running on coffee and mild resentment

Send help. Or a better fox deterrent. Or just more chicken drumsticks so she stops mugging the corvids.

Night Shift Report: Barry Junior Is Back, Baby

 

Ghillie Suit Gardening – Night Shift Report: Barry Junior Is Back, Baby

Well, well, well… look who’s decided to renew his tenancy agreement.After a brief disappearance, Barry Junior returned last night like a chunky little landlord doing a property inspection. The new camera angle caught him perfectly — first snuffling around the pots like he was checking the rent was still being paid in worms, then doing a full waddle across the patio with all the confidence of someone who knows exactly where the free water dish is.He’s looking proper healthy too. That rounded badger barrel-body, the little white stripe starting to show, the “I pay my taxes in destroyed lawn” swagger. No messing about.Current status:

• Barry Junior: Back and bolder than ever
• Lawn: On borrowed time
• Me: mildly concerned but mostly just impressed he’s so photogenic in night vision

Felicity better watch herself. She’s been treating this garden like her personal spa resort, but now she’s got competition from a badger who looks like he’s training for the 100m worm dash.I’m choosing to see this as a compliment. My garden is clearly the hottest nightlife spot in the neighbourhood. First Felicity moves in full-time, now Barry’s doing late-night visits. At this rate I’m going to need a bouncer and a loyalty card system.Cafe Scoreboard:

• Barry Junior – 1 (confident return)
• Felicity – 1 (still top dog… for now)
• My lawn – 0 (already writing its will)

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Night Shift Report: Felicity’s Solo Night Out

Ghillie Suit Gardening – Night Shift Report: Felicity’s Solo Night Out

Last night the garden was suspiciously quiet. No hedgehog. No Barry Junior digging up the lawn like a furry JCB. No Farron chirping his little head off. Just one very familiar face making herself completely at home.Felicity turned up for her night shift, patrolling the lawn like she pays the mortgage. The repositioned camera caught her beautifully — big, bold, and utterly unbothered. She even hung around until morning, basically saying “this is my garden now, you’re just the staff.”

Breakfast service was duly provided: premium chicken cat food, a pouch of dog food with peanuts, and a small bacon sizzler. Clean plate. No cubs in tow. She’s clearly decided she’s on the permanent roster.At this point I think it’s safe to say I don’t have a fox.
I have a garden dog.She’s sleek, she’s quiet when she wants to be, she stares at me through the lounge door like she’s judging my life choices, and she’s here more often than some family members. The only difference is she doesn’t ask for the Wi-Fi password.The camera is working fine. The animals are just refusing to be in the right place. Typical.Current Cafe Score:
Felicity – 1 (professional squatter)
Everyone else – 0 (ghosted me)
Me – still feeding the fox I definitely didn’t mean to adopt

Farron’s Big Day Out: All Chirp, No Chill

 

Ghillie Suit Gardening – Live Dispatch: Farron’s Big Day OutThis morning the patio turned into a runway show and I wasn’t even invited.Felicity emerged first, silent, sleek, and radiating pure “I have five children and zero patience left” energy. Two seconds later, her tiny carbon copy — Farron — trotted out behind her, chattering away like he’d mainlined espresso and discovered language for the first time.They walked in perfect unison across the slabs, step for step, like a military drill. Felicity: cool, collected, professional fox. Farron: “MUM. MUM. MUM. LOOK AT THIS. LOOK AT THAT. CHIRP CHIRP CHATTER SQUEAK!!” Then the little legend spotted the lawn, launched himself off the patio edge like a furry missile, and continued his one-cub commentary at full volume while bouncing through the grass. Felicity just kept walking like she was pretending she didn’t know him.Honestly, it was the most wholesome thing I’ve seen all week… which, in this garden, is code for “someone’s probably getting eaten later.”But credit where it’s due — that photo is outstanding. You can see every whisker, every speck of mud on Farron’s little legs, and the absolute long-suffering expression on Felicity’s face. She’s already mentally calculating how many more months until she can legally kick them out in autumn.Welcome to motherhood, Felicity. The chatter never stops. The food bill never stops. And the heart-melting cuteness? That definitely doesn’t stop… until one of the cubs tries to nick your second breakfast and you have to remind them who’s still top of the food chain.Farron, mate, keep chirping. We’re all watching. Just maybe not while you’re practising your hunting skills on poor old DW, yeah?Current Cafe Score:
Farron – 1 (adorable chaos)
Felicity – 1 (silent judgement)
Me – still traumatised by how cute it was, send help (or more coffee).

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Ghillie Suit Gardening – Thoughts on DW

Ghillie Suit Gardening – Thoughts on DWIt’s been three days now since I last saw DW (disabled Walter).I keep checking the pigeon feeder, the birdbaths, the ground trays — anywhere he might appear. But there’s been no sign of him. Not even a quick drink or a cautious visit when it’s quiet.I find myself hoping he’s tucked away somewhere safe, resting and taking it easy. That maybe the 33C heat was too much and he’s just having a few quiet days. But I also know how hard things have been for him lately — the struggle to balance, the bullying from the other pigeons, the way his leg and wing hang at such painful angles.The truth is, part of me would rather he’s already passed away peacefully than lying somewhere in the heat, starving or dehydrating. That thought sits heavy, but it feels kinder than imagining him suffering alone.I’ve done everything I can for him. Early morning top-ups on his favourite tray, extra food when he managed to get there, making sure there was always water available. But at the end of the day, he’s a wild bird with a serious disability, and nature is harsh.I just hope he knew he was safe here. That someone was looking out for him, even if only for a little while.If he doesn’t reappear, I’ll try to take some comfort in the fact that he had a garden where people cared, where food was put out especially for him, and where he wasn’t completely alone in his struggles.Come back if you can, DW.
But if you can’t… rest easy, little friend.