Looking up from planting japanese onion sets, I am intrigued to notice a giant puffball growing out from the compost heap – (very strange indeed, as I’ve previously found them in summer in open pasture – but I guess there’s no accounting for the seasons these days). Finishing my task, and hoeing the root crops (the moon fronts an earth sign in the sidereal zodiac), it’s an hour or two before I further investigate. As I approach I’m pleased to see the fungus looks fresh and white. Jim will be chuffed, we shall fry it for supper with lambs liver and bacon.
Then to my surprise and consternation it shudders, and I hear a muffled, but highly excited growl. No puffball at all, it’s just little Bitsa, our Jack Russell captive to the scent of a rat. There she stays right up until nightfall, occasionally twitching and yelping at the promise of murder. Unfortunately however she is not to be satisfied – how strange the rat doesn't come out to say hello!
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