Up north and personal: Let it snow
The snow glistened and sparkled for all of two days before the day time thaw turned it soft.
Four things happened simultaneously: a flash of lightning, dazzling in its intensity, turned the room an eerie shade of electric blue; the external modem on the desktop computer blew with a terrifying sizzle and the lights went out; I walloped my right elbow belatedly diving for the switch, and the pair of love birds perched on the livingroom window sill let rip with an ear-splitting squawk as the dogs shot underneath the bed in panic!
It was 7 pm on a Friday night and I, having been engrossed in my writing, had failed to notice the approaching storm. When I am alert, the computer is promptly disconnected to pre-empt exploding modems - this is the third one in the last eighteen months and they are not cheap. If the computer isn’t on, it means the phone is, and direct lightening hits on the phone line are not uncommon. Exploding phones put on an even more spectacular display than frazzled modems, jolting you awake, terrified and quaking if the hit occurs at 3 am, as it has in the past.
Stumbling around in the dark, I stepped on the puppies’ rubber duck and almost had a heart attack at its loud squeak. As I lit candles, listening to the deafening thunder rattling the roof, I suddenly realised that the light coming in from outside had that special muted quality which could mean only one thing. So, forgetting everything else, I rushed to the front door, flung it open and grinned at the rapidly whirling flakes of… snow.
Finally, something wet!
I stood mesmerised at the open door for a good five minutes before I recalled the ‘squawk’ and rushed to investigate. What I saw was simply astounding: Mrs Joe — she and her husband Joe have been in residence for all of 18 months — had chosen this, of all times, to lay an egg. On reflection, perhaps she was frightened into doing it… instantaneously and miraculously too!
Now, before going any further, let me explain how the Joes happened along. My dogs adore treats like liver, heart and tripe and I buy these from a guy who also sells chickens. On my last trip to his shop, I noticed that he had decided to brighten up his dingy little store by hanging a tiny bird cage right next to where he slaughters chickens. When I spotted two blue and white budgies looking absolutely miserable inside, I confiscated them and took them home, although not before finding a larger cage for them to live in.
The two young birds settled in rapidly, enjoying the tranquility of my little home, and as the weeks went by and they matured, I realised that they were both males. This was fine by me as I really didn’t want them to start multiplying. Sadly, six months later one of them fell off his perch and died. The remaining one, Joe, was heartbroken, only cheering up when I gave him a mirror. At one point he fell madly in love with his reflection, spending hours talking to himself and prancing gleefully in his cage. This, I thought, wasn’t quite right so, on my next trip down to Islamabad, I bought him a pretty blue and yellow lady friend which is when Mrs Joe entered the picture. Joe was petrified of this female intruder in his cage and, what’s more, a female who came between him and his reflection. Mrs Joe, being older and, as it turned out, a bully, thrashed Joe thoroughly at least twice a day for the first two weeks, but slowly they became a pair with one major problem. Mrs Joe expected something from her new husband and he, poor immature thing, didn’t have a clue what it was until finally, everything fell hilariously in place. Mrs Joe promptly got on with the business of cleaning out her nesting pot with serious intent… hence the arrival of the egg. Now both Mr and Mrs Joe are sitting in expectant pride.
Meanwhile… back to the snow: Hell-Bella, the aforementioned puppy — who happens to be an unlikely cross between a pug and a poodle — didn’t really get the benefit of the previous one day of snow as that was horrible wet stuff. This new fall was the kind of dry, crisp snow that piles up inches deep in no time and promises to hang around for a while. Hell-Bella had a ball in it, totally refusing to come back in until she had chased it, caught it, dug in it, rolled in it, raced around making tracks like the utter lunatic she is, caught it again and searched in confusion trying to discover where the melted flakes had gone. The other three dogs, elderly and sedate in comparison, joined in the fun for a while when I ventured out and began throwing snowballs around. Soon though, they retreated to thaw out by the stove, leaving me and Hell-Bella to play on until we surrendered.
Night-time temperatures plummeted. Early morning, soon after a frigid lemon and pink dawn, I discovered that the water-pipes were frozen solid. I could still enjoy my morning coffee though, having filled the kettle the previous evening — a winter habit that has served me well. As the sun rose higher, throwing rainbow prisms off the glistening snow and setting the icicles dangling from the roof dripping, the pipes slowly thawed out. At the same time, a ferocious wildcat, which has been hanging around for some time, sneakily crept along the top of the wall I use to feed the birds on. It has now taken up residence in the dry nullah running underneath the woodshed. The dogs are desperate to drive it away and I am equally desperate to prevent them, as the beast would tear them to pieces. Though I don’t want the cat around, I don’t want to harm it either, wildlife being under tremendous pressure as it is. But having it pop up wherever it figures food might be found is just not on. The dogs bark and it retreats up the nearest tree to snarl and spit at them while they run frantic circles underneath; I yell and it glares at me from untamable yellow-green eyes, ready to pounce. Throwing stones in its general direction only serves to anger it. I even resorted to aerial firing which promptly sent it fleeing for life but it was back in place the very next day so I guess I’m stuck with it for now.
The much-awaited snow didn’t, much to Hell-Bella’s disappointment, stay for long. It glistened and sparkled for all of two days before the day time thaw turned it first soft, then slushy and then zilch!
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, February 6th, 2011.
It was 7 pm on a Friday night and I, having been engrossed in my writing, had failed to notice the approaching storm. When I am alert, the computer is promptly disconnected to pre-empt exploding modems - this is the third one in the last eighteen months and they are not cheap. If the computer isn’t on, it means the phone is, and direct lightening hits on the phone line are not uncommon. Exploding phones put on an even more spectacular display than frazzled modems, jolting you awake, terrified and quaking if the hit occurs at 3 am, as it has in the past.
Stumbling around in the dark, I stepped on the puppies’ rubber duck and almost had a heart attack at its loud squeak. As I lit candles, listening to the deafening thunder rattling the roof, I suddenly realised that the light coming in from outside had that special muted quality which could mean only one thing. So, forgetting everything else, I rushed to the front door, flung it open and grinned at the rapidly whirling flakes of… snow.
Finally, something wet!
I stood mesmerised at the open door for a good five minutes before I recalled the ‘squawk’ and rushed to investigate. What I saw was simply astounding: Mrs Joe — she and her husband Joe have been in residence for all of 18 months — had chosen this, of all times, to lay an egg. On reflection, perhaps she was frightened into doing it… instantaneously and miraculously too!
Now, before going any further, let me explain how the Joes happened along. My dogs adore treats like liver, heart and tripe and I buy these from a guy who also sells chickens. On my last trip to his shop, I noticed that he had decided to brighten up his dingy little store by hanging a tiny bird cage right next to where he slaughters chickens. When I spotted two blue and white budgies looking absolutely miserable inside, I confiscated them and took them home, although not before finding a larger cage for them to live in.
The two young birds settled in rapidly, enjoying the tranquility of my little home, and as the weeks went by and they matured, I realised that they were both males. This was fine by me as I really didn’t want them to start multiplying. Sadly, six months later one of them fell off his perch and died. The remaining one, Joe, was heartbroken, only cheering up when I gave him a mirror. At one point he fell madly in love with his reflection, spending hours talking to himself and prancing gleefully in his cage. This, I thought, wasn’t quite right so, on my next trip down to Islamabad, I bought him a pretty blue and yellow lady friend which is when Mrs Joe entered the picture. Joe was petrified of this female intruder in his cage and, what’s more, a female who came between him and his reflection. Mrs Joe, being older and, as it turned out, a bully, thrashed Joe thoroughly at least twice a day for the first two weeks, but slowly they became a pair with one major problem. Mrs Joe expected something from her new husband and he, poor immature thing, didn’t have a clue what it was until finally, everything fell hilariously in place. Mrs Joe promptly got on with the business of cleaning out her nesting pot with serious intent… hence the arrival of the egg. Now both Mr and Mrs Joe are sitting in expectant pride.
Meanwhile… back to the snow: Hell-Bella, the aforementioned puppy — who happens to be an unlikely cross between a pug and a poodle — didn’t really get the benefit of the previous one day of snow as that was horrible wet stuff. This new fall was the kind of dry, crisp snow that piles up inches deep in no time and promises to hang around for a while. Hell-Bella had a ball in it, totally refusing to come back in until she had chased it, caught it, dug in it, rolled in it, raced around making tracks like the utter lunatic she is, caught it again and searched in confusion trying to discover where the melted flakes had gone. The other three dogs, elderly and sedate in comparison, joined in the fun for a while when I ventured out and began throwing snowballs around. Soon though, they retreated to thaw out by the stove, leaving me and Hell-Bella to play on until we surrendered.
Night-time temperatures plummeted. Early morning, soon after a frigid lemon and pink dawn, I discovered that the water-pipes were frozen solid. I could still enjoy my morning coffee though, having filled the kettle the previous evening — a winter habit that has served me well. As the sun rose higher, throwing rainbow prisms off the glistening snow and setting the icicles dangling from the roof dripping, the pipes slowly thawed out. At the same time, a ferocious wildcat, which has been hanging around for some time, sneakily crept along the top of the wall I use to feed the birds on. It has now taken up residence in the dry nullah running underneath the woodshed. The dogs are desperate to drive it away and I am equally desperate to prevent them, as the beast would tear them to pieces. Though I don’t want the cat around, I don’t want to harm it either, wildlife being under tremendous pressure as it is. But having it pop up wherever it figures food might be found is just not on. The dogs bark and it retreats up the nearest tree to snarl and spit at them while they run frantic circles underneath; I yell and it glares at me from untamable yellow-green eyes, ready to pounce. Throwing stones in its general direction only serves to anger it. I even resorted to aerial firing which promptly sent it fleeing for life but it was back in place the very next day so I guess I’m stuck with it for now.
The much-awaited snow didn’t, much to Hell-Bella’s disappointment, stay for long. It glistened and sparkled for all of two days before the day time thaw turned it first soft, then slushy and then zilch!
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, February 6th, 2011.