Tag: pueblo

fine feathers three

three feathers

The discussion about el Centro Educativo Los Morales and whether it might be a centre for teaching lost morals made me think of Thomas Hardy’s The Ruined Maid. I’ve always been fond of ‘Melia.

I suspect her “bright feathers three” would have been rather more ostentatious than the ones I’ve found to illustrate the post, but the cats don’t get much chance at anything more colourful round here.

I think the black and white one came from a woodpecker, and, as far as I know, was shed naturally. The blue one is from a rabilargo, whose wing was left on my doorstep, presumably as a comment on the inadequacy of a kibble diet for outdoor cats. And the rather fine spotted quill is one I picked up from a pile of feathers in the olive grove next door. Whether the cats worked as a team to bring down one of the neighbour’s guinea fowls, I don’t know, but I’d have thought it would have been too big a job for one on their own.
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pruning, ploughing and punning

plum blossom close up

For the last week, the skies have been almost solid grey and the drizzle has only been interrupted by intermittend torrential rain and the occasional thunder storm. This has all come while the plum trees have been in full bloom, so I imagine we may not get much fruit this year as there have been few insects around to pollinate.
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cosas de caza

Further to my last post here about the crooning that woke me in the middle of the night – which turned out to be a cat defending its prey, rather than one of the locals serenading me outside my window – I’ve been watching one of the semi-ferals play with a rat in the wet grass this afternoon. He was keen on bringing it up to the verandah for me to have my part, but I assured him I wasn’t hungry, so he shared it with one of his brothers instead.
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a prowl of cats in the night

I was woken in the wee shall hours by cats growling on the verandah. It wasn’t the wailing and wauling of the queen calling the neighbours’ toms – no need, she’s already pregnant again – and it sounded quite unfriendly, so I got up to check there were no forasteros about.

cat with small rat

No one ran when I opened the door: the shadows were apparently all members of our own semi-feral tribe. But the growling continued.

Then I identified the sound as the possessive crooning they make when they have caught something and are warning the others away.

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a woman’s work

I get very irritated about all the different ‘international day of this’ and ‘world day for that’ events. Particularly when there seems to be so little consensus about the celebrations. (I’ve commented before on how the UK celebrate an entirely different World Book Day from the rest of the planet and I always miss it – though I do remember the one on April 23rd. )


Be that as it may, Google has reminded me that today is International Women’s Day, and I find from clicking their commemorative logo that it’s the 100th anniversary of the event and that women around the world will be standing on bridges to celebrate. Continue reading “a woman’s work”