Last Sunday (5th July), once I finished work, Paul and I decided to go out for a walk. Not far from us (and even closer to our old flat) is an old run down farm house which we both have a soft spot for. It’s a house that we used to walk past every day on our way to work (and I still do!) however it’s soon to be torn down and made into a new housing estate.

Whilst walking to work the previous week, on my usual route, just before the old farm house, I found a dead slow-worm. I’ve always liked animals and I have a bit of a soft spot for slow worms after we rescued one from a cat over a year ago.

Very aware that this new housing estate is going to make it even harder for the slow-worms to survive with a lot of land being taken from them – we decided to have a look around the area.

It was a nice walk and we didn’t spot any slow-worms on the way there but we had a good look at all the changes around the old building and started to head back. I pointed out to Paul where I found the dead slow-worm and nearby is a rock which I thought one would probably be hiding under as it was very close to the site but too close to the footpath and road to have been disturbed too much. Once we lifted it, we almost dropped the rock again when we found three of them all squidged under this one rock.

We did end up re-homing them and putting them in our back garden where we have lots of insects, lots of things to hide under and should soon have a nice warm compost heap.

We took all three, two females and a male (though one of them may still have been a juvenile slow worm as it was very gold in colour but too big and early to have been born this year).

This isn’t our only encounter this week:

On Tuesday (7th July) there was a moment where Paul was working quietly on his computer at the dining room table and I was on the sofa reading in a comfortable silence (The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton – I do recommend) when suddenly there was a loud bang on the dining room table (which looks onto the back garden), the noise gave Paul and I such a start – Paul was sitting right beside the window.

After getting our hearts back under control we peered out and couldn’t see anything. I half expected it to have been Charlie (our cat) but even from the utility room we couldn’t see anything. We ventured outside and discussed the fact there might now be a dead bird in behind the shed (which is currently flat packed and leaning against the wall). I love animals but after an incident some years ago, when I lived in Ireland, involving a dead pidgeon and a very playful dog, I am also very aware that I’m not very good at dealing with dead animals.

We made our way over (and I made Paul have a look first in case it was something I didn’t want to see i.e a bird with his insides out, a basketball sized spider, bogey monster, the usual). It was a bird. A stock dove, in fact. I tried to pick it up with my hands over his wings, so he wouldn’t hurt himself, and maybe put him in the cat carrier, cover it with a blanket and keep him in the dark so we could take him to the vets to save his life.

Turns out he wasn’t that badly injured and I spooked him, he took off a bit wonkily and landed in one of our trees but eventually flew off safely. Thank goodness.