where eagles dare

 A friend of mine(you know who you are) sent me a series of photographs of this thirteen year old Mongolian girl who is the only female hunter in her country. I think they are sensational and liberating pictures and I'd love to be this girl in another life. I've moved on from wanting a tapir and now would like a golden eagle. In fact the pictures have so inspired me that I feel another story lurking in the distance and have immediately booked an appointment with the golden eagle man at the hawk conservancy. More on that at a later blog. Is this a cliff hanger?

 Meanwhile, not in Mongolia, we had a wet Easter and we were unable to do the Easter egg hunt in the garden for the first time ever. The weather has never stopped us before. The blazing sun might have melted a few of the eggs, Pixie might have found a few before we did - but we have always carried on regardless. I exclude myself from this because I hide them - but even I forget where I put them sometimes and have discovered them whilst gardening later in the year around June or July.We attempted a small hunt in the house but as each room is full of clutter it was n't worth hiding them in mysterious places or no one would find them and when the heating comes back on in the winter there'd be a lot of melted dust covered chocolate. We did have an Easter bunny though that Pocket (quarter Bengal) or Nancy brought in - but only the ears and tail.

 I'm very happy with these miniature tulips called Candy stripe. They shut up in the evening and open up like lilies in the day showing a white interior. The picture below was meant to show them opened up but that eagle has flown into the frame again so I might have to put them up on the next blog.{perhaps with news from the hawk conservancy}

I don't think the farmers around us would be too pleased if I had a golden eagle of course. I have images of lambs being brought home which take up a lot more room than rabbits. Also I'm not sure that cats would be too safe. Still, as Beezle and Nietzsche would say "that which does not kill us makes us stronger."

The Eagle



He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls
And like a thunderbolt he falls.


Alfred, Lord Tennyson