February for Dyke Be it Black or White

Well, it’s not yet February, but the dykes are full and it’s not white. I don’t remember being so consistently homebound. Murphy’s growing webbed feet. It might be wet, but boy - is it mild.
This afternoon we snatched a quick trip out between showers and went round the ponds. January and trout were rising and taking. I saw several caught.
Then I enjoyed a pipe in one of the bankside shelters. I was amazed to see a swarm of midges cavorting in the weak January sunlight. They wheel and fall about like a drunken cloud. Do they have anti-freeze for blood?
I have been having bad nights recently. I got reading in the small wee hours, when I realised that the security light had switched on. Looking out, I was amazed to see a badger. Completely unphased by the light - he, to my mind, stopped himself doing a Morcambe and Wise routine, and carried on eating whatever.
That was a new experience for me and, I would think, for the badger. Murphy was snoring and his only clue would be very interesting smells the next day.
Further evidence of the unconventional weather - washing, drying outside in January and sightings of a bat, I think he must be suffering from insomnia.
Virtually every time we venture out, it results in my getting a soaking and Murphy gets a shower - not his favourite pastime.
Heading into Chesterfield in my car yesterday, I was held up by the traffic lights. I noticed a kestrel strike something just at the side of me, not ten feet away. Whatever it was, there was no size to it, but the hovering genius very swiftly ate it.

See ya,
Buggy Man