The Tagore cats gallery

Click on any image for slideshow; read on below for text.

Now that I am blogging again someone I know is going to get stroppy and soon if we don’t get some cats on board pdq. So to forestall ructions in the neighbourhood I thought I’d introduce some of the key players in the house #1 local cat community.

Majestic Maga

Majestic Maga

First is the Maga. Named after a character in Julio Cortázar’s brilliant hypertextual novel Rayuela (in English, Hopscotch), she comes first because of all the living cats we have had her the longest. We call her ‘Majestic Maga’ because she has dignity, is unhurried and always contrives to sit neatly and demurely. She also has the rather charming habit of announcing her presence when she enters a room, so that those in attendance can make their bow or curtsey and due obeisance. She is however not all she seems; as a vey young cat she was a stop out and gymslip mother, before being taken into care. We shall have more to say about Maga.

The ever so clean and permanently — sleepy Matti

The ever so clean and permanently — sleepy Matti

Matti came from the same rescue centre, and indeed was born there so has never known anything other than love and cuddles. Indeed, she is something of a love machine and is never happier than when sitting on top of you (or the piece of paper you’re trying to work with) demanding to have her tummy scratched.  She is also the cleanest cat in Christendom (if one is allowed to say that in these PC days). When not hassling, eating or washing she sleeps and it seems that sleeping makes her tired because she has the most incredible facility for it. When asleep she sprawls in the most unladylike manner.

The Baticat, as he comes through rehab (though still as batty as ever)

The Baticat, as he comes through rehab (though still as batty as ever)

The Baticat has nothing to do with bats or Batman, rather he is a batty cat, doolally, three olives short of a pizza, the lift doesn’t go to the top floor type of cat. He first came into our lives appearing once in a while and howling in a deranged manner outside our front door: the filthiest, mankiest cat imaginable. Clearly he was homeless and long overdue for a service; definitely a suitable case for treatment. F has taken him in hand, showering him with love and affection, feeding him proper food and brushing him regularly. He has responded well and his coat has improved enormously; he now howls outside the back door but is allowed in (he doesn’t understand the cat flap thing) at feeding time and is looking much better. Still completely batty though.

Fluffy White (not his real name), who bit me …

Fluffy White (not his real name), who bit me …

The cat we know as Fluffy White lives in a neighbour’s house and we don’t know too much about him (or even if he is a ‘him’). He appears periodically to show an insouciant disinterest in us, ignores our food and occasionally hisses at Maga and Matti. Maga hisses back – Matti doesn’t understand aggression at all. Fluffy White is feared by the children in the Close, who claims that he’s a biter; I can vouch for this, having been bitten myself. Nevertheless, he is a bona fide member of the Tagore cat community.

Clockwise from bottom left: Fluffy White, Maga, Matti and Jinxie

Clockwise from bottom left: Fluffy White, Maga, Matti and Jinxie

Jinxie is (or, we think was) a beautiful black cat who also lived a few doors down and had the loveliest disposition; always cheerful, always ready for a rub or a tickle, and not unknown to enter the house when he felt like it (and somewhat disinclined to leave it when asked). He was a good community spirited cat, but we feel he may have moved away and we haven’t seen him for several months now. People in the Close do come and go, and so, presumably, will their cats.

Missy, an iPhone capture: she really is much prettier than this!

Missy, an iPhone capture: she really is much prettier than this!

The last cat currently around is Missy. Missy lives outside the Close, and we feel doesn’t get much love from her owners. She has taken to F and appears for breakfast each day but strangely Maga will not allow her anywhere near the house so she is fed in next-door but one’s garden. This is odd, because Maga is fairly passive to visiting cats and quite indifferent to the Baticat, no doubt aware of his restricted intellect. Missy is an adventurous cat and has been seen all around the neighbourhood; one feels she doesn’t have much of a home life.

Well, that’ll do as an introduction. We shall continue the adventures of the Tagore cats in future episodes, and no doubt talk of other cats of the past such as the legendary Gino, the historic Mitten and perhaps Morgan, who really was a suitable case for treatment. And there are other cats in house #2, in Patagonia, who miaow in a different tongue and about whom there are also tales to be told. But all in good time.

Gino, the best and only cat, about whom more later …

Gino, the best and only cat, about whom more later …

Molly

I thought of my mother today. She died in hospital a few years ago, and I visited her at night not long before she died. Our last conversation (she never lost her lucidity) was about her days as a trainee nurse and her fear of the Matron finding her without her cuffs on. Last year, as a writing exercise, I incorporated the memory (with embellishment) in this short piece.  I found the photo in an old album of hers some time later, wearing [spotlessly clean] cuffs.

FME-nurse

Damian likes his new car, pokey little Japanese thing, white and chrome, faux leather. Pa had a proper car, dignified, Austin Westminster. Black like cars should be, shiny shabby leather seats, proper leather, dividing arm in the back with the ashtray where Doug and I used to …

“You finished you drink, now, Mrs Elliot?”

Me, Molly. In hospital. Born in one, gave birth in one, shall die in one, not today I hope, though I don’t mind. I’m ready. Met Phil in hospital too, at the Molyneux, he wanted to drive ambulances. Day war was declared. Drove me home. Shock for Pa and Mom. Morris Ten, was it? Green? Or was that the one he did up for me when he went to the States? Don’t know any more. Small car, that one, double declutch, double declutch, Damian doesn’t double declutch, no one does now …

Yes, dear, thanks, I’ve had my Ovaltine. Was an Ovaltiney once, got the badge somewhere, Radio Luxembourg was it, or was it SNOL, don’t know any more …

“You sleep well then, you hear. I’se back in the morning”

Good night, Deirdre, sleep well too. Slip of a thing. Jamaican, is she, Trinidad? One of those islands. Family came for the buses probably. Windrush, was it? Not like my day at Molyneux. We worked hard then. In the sluices, all of a lather, cuffs at hand in case Sister or Matron came in. Mustn’t be caught without cuffs. Worse, with dirty cuffs. Everything’s changed. Used to be order, uniforms, coloured belts, knew who was who then. Don’t know any more.

Damian will be home now. Sleep well, Damian, Julie, the kids, the dog, what’s her name.? We had a dog at Budock Vean, Nigger, can’t say that now, no one does now. Everything’s changed. The world’s gone, and I’m going too.  I’m tired, that Ovaltine had something in it. Silly idea, Molly. Silly Billy, silly Molly. Used to be jolly Molly once. Just tired Molly now. Sleep well, Molly …

Pennington Flash, August 2014

Click on any image for slideshow; read on below for text.

Pennington Flash Country Park is a premier bird watching site in the North West of the UK. The core visitor’s area is a 70 hectare lake, with paths around part of the shoreline and some seven or eight hides strategically located around the site. Here’s a (rights free) general view of part of the site that I found on the web.

General view of the Flash, courtesy Colin Davies at ‘Occasionally — Birding St Helens’

General view of the Flash, courtesy Colin Davies at ‘Occasionally — Birding St Helens’

One of these hides looks on to a feeder area that attracts a large number of species (see pics further down) , although visitors are warned that the place where the feeders are is heavily shaded and the light levels can be low; photographers should choose a day with high overhead sun or use fill in flash (which can upset other people in the hide). You can get there by car (it’s near Leigh and Wigan) and there is pay and display car parking on site. I went by bus: X34 from Manchester Piccadilly and then 600 from Leigh, getting off at the Robin Hood pub.

Kingfisher in the distance – this was the closest — I could get to him

Kingfisher in the distance – this was the closest — I could get to him

I spent a few hours at the Flash (an English dialect word for a non-specific ‘lake’) and took some good shots, the weather ranging from cold, wet and overcast to hot and sunny. A typical Lancashire day, in fact. As it was the school holidays the park areas were full of schoolchildren, running, jostling and generally having a good if noisy time. The park is for all of us, and somehow the birding didn’t suffer. I managed to get a shot of a kingfisher who for once perched within distance, albeit farther away than I would have liked, but this was more than compensated by close shots of a couple of great spotted woodpeckers and three or four jays, together offering a whole rainbow of colour.

A jay, photographed — in the feeding area

A jay, photographed — in the feeding area

[ABOVE} a jay in all his finery, taken in the feeder hide when the sun came out. [BELOW] a great spotted woodpecker.

I don’t like photos of birds on feeders, but this great spotted woodpecker — was unmissable

I don’t like photos of birds on feeders, but this great spotted woodpecker — was unmissable

I didn’t make a list of the birds I saw, but working from photos I processed on my return I saw at least: black-headed gull, bullfinch, chaffinch, common (mew) gull, common sandpiper, great crested grebe, great spotted woodpecker, green sandpiper, greenfinch, jay, kingfisher, lapwing, lesser black backed gull, mallard, moorhen, mute swan, pied wagtail, snipe, starling and willow tit. The last of these, the willow tit, was a first for me; they seemed common enough here, but in other parts of the UK are quite a rarity.

A willow tit, with no visible weakness of intellect

A willow tit, with no visible weakness of intellect

[ABOVE} willow tit (Poecile montanus), almost indistinguishable from the marsh tit but the locale is a good indicator. [BELOW] a young bullfinch, who will in time develop a beautiful deep red chest but is still in his juvenile plumage. Both of these were shot in the feeder area.

Juvenile bullfinch

Juvenile bullfinch

If the feeder hide was something of a feeding frenzy, down at the lake there was no shortage of activity either. One problem here was that so many waterfowl were in intermediary plumage, and my identification skills are still rather rudimentary. There were mallards of every shape and hue, and black headed gulls galore. One lesser black backed gull perched on a nearby rock while I could see a single common gull in the distance, perched on a green buoy. A single snipe was rooting around in the mud, in the company of moorhen and green and common sandpipers.

A lesser black backed gull

A lesser black backed gull

[ABOVE} lesser black backed gull [BELOW] snipe, a little fuzzy I’m afraid – it was heavily cropped due to the distance.

A snipe in his habitat

A snipe in his habitat

Verdict: a good day’s birding, at an exceptional site which I highly recommend for the non-specialist birder. On the downside, although there are onsite toilets there was no information office and no site maps available – the few signs around were limited in scope and offered little guidance. It’s probably a good idea to take your own food and drink too – what was on offer from the vans in the car park looked a little dodgy, and at very inflated prices.