Tag: cat

November 16th – A grim ride, mostly in rain, up to Chasewater and back round by Brownhills Common. It wasn’t cold, but the light was atrocious and it didn’t feel great to be out to be honest. Some great views at Chasewater, though, with that wonderful colour from yesterday. I see the grebes are in winter plumage now, and the waterline on Jeffrey’s Swag and the North Shore could have been Penmaen.

Mr. Whiskers was the first cat I’ve ever seen on the north shore. He did’t seem to be lost. 

Back in Brownhills, a lone cygnet made the canal view complete, and winter marigolds guerrilla planted by Becks Bridge on the Pelsall Road  raised a smile.

Hope the weather improves soon.

November 1st – After Thursday’s blurry rat backside photo, I received a complaint from a reader who’s rat phobic. Sorry, Linda, but I quite like them, and they are a part of our wildlife. I’ll try not to spring rattus norvegicus on you again without warning. 

I have suitably cautioned Linda about this post….

Rats and humans have a symbiotic relationship – they are intelligent, quick and scarily versatile adaptors, which has ensured their proliferation and survival, and despite their carrying of disease and filth, it is without doubt that without these guys cleaning up after us the human race would probably have died out by now.

Today I was riding back from the supermarket, and this healthy specimen was just on the towpath near Pratts Mill Bridge in Leamore. Braver than most, it hung around as I took its photo, before it darted for safety into the reeds next to me.

What I hadn’t seen was Mr. Whiskers looking sternly on from nearby. Rat for tea, possibly…

October 27th – Ah, Mr. Calico… we meet again. This male cat (he is male, and unneutered by the looks) was hunting mallard on the canal in Pleck as I spun through on my way to work. I’ve seen him a few times, always in exactly the same spot. He talks to me and curses me for disturbing his sport (although the ducks were honking at him and causing a drama long before I got close).

He always moves high up on the embankment from where he can look down on me in safety, then meows long wailing cries, always seeming like curses.

Somebody loves that lad. He’s in fine fettle. And good voice.

October 16th – I’ve come to the conclusion there’s another swan family moved down here, probably from Aldridge. Nipping back into Walsall Wood on an errand, I spotted five cygnets and mum; they don’t seem as advanced in development as the Catshill brood, which are really quite white now, and these seem cheekier, and more unruly. 

Looking for food along the embankment at the back of Barrow Close, they were watched by a distinctly unamused bystander, a large, grumpy-looking marmalade cat.

There’s a story there, I’m sure.

October 14th – I passed through Snow Hill Station early in the day on an errand before work. I hadn’t been there for ages, and scooting my bike across the access bridge, I was shocked to note the concourse had been retiled. I anxiously checked to see if the odd cat tile was still in place: I was relieved to see it was.

I have no idea why this hand-painted puss is here, but it’s clearly old, possibly rescued from the original station. Attempts to find out what it represents or commemorates failed.

I’m fascinated by this ceramic depiction of a cat. There’s a story here, if only I can find it. 

A lovely thing; so glad it endures.

October 3rd – Bridgtown has my heart. I’m having a bit of a rough time right now, but had to nip to Great Wyrley on my way home, so took the chance to spin over to Sainsbury’s while I was there. That involved a shot through the backstreets of Bridgtown, the sleepy village-within-a-connurbation just off the A5. 

I adore the blue-diamond brick pavements, terraces and shops; it’s intimate, and proud street corner war memorial, and buried away behind the hideous modern hotel, wedged between terrace gable ends, a garden of remembrance I’d never noticed before.

It glowed in the golden hour, with ruby red rosehips, war mural and roses. It seems to have a rather proud caretaker, too. A lovely place.

September 9th – As I rode home along the canal through Walsall Wood, I came upon a Mexican standoff. A small, black and white kitten one side of the canal, staring out a Heron on the other who was meeting the stare eye-to-eye.

They’d probably both still be there, but a clumsy cyclist with tea on his mind broke the moment.

August 18th – He was only a kitten, really; a sharp eyed, keen whiskered black and white mog exploring his world. This is where I saw the smokey grey pedigree chap a few weeks ago, just on the far side of the canal at Barrow Close in Walsall Wood. 

Puss didn’t seem bothered about me, and was initially hunting something in the water. Foiled, he took a drink instead.

A lovely lad with a smudge-black nose and a remarkably long tail. Oh, to be an inquisitive young cat in summertime…

July 30th – Interesting to note the cat population seems to have woken up since the temperature dropped a little. I see a lot of tails and bums sticking out of hedgerows on my travels, or furry balls asleep on house-steps, cars and shady corners. Often I’m glared at from under parked cars or over the canal from the opposite bank.

I adore cats. 

This midnight lady (I think it;s a lady) was photographed loafing in Chandler’s Keep, as I passed on my way up to Chase Road.  Wonderfully black, and those whiskers! I feel sure she could well be a witches familiar…

That’s one classy cat.