Farm talk - The wrath of a Crowned Plover

... or, the love of a mother....
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Continuous effort - not strength or intelligence - is the key to unlocking our potential.

Yesterday my husband had to pull the truck out of the workshop to deliver a tractor to a customer and as he got a couple of meters from the workshop gate, he was confronted by a very angry Crowned Plover, standing in front of the approaching truck, wings spread and loudly proclaiming her intent on not moving.

Perplexed, my husband got out of the truck to look what was going on, upon which both parents flew at him in attack mode, swooping and screaming loudly, trying to get him to move. Suspecting that there might be some babies, he called me to see if I could see what all the pa-lava was about.

As soon as I arrived, I was dive-bombed in the same manner and as I carefully walked around slowly, looking out for any babies, the one parent would flap around in the grass, feigning injury and, as I approached, move on a bit, trying to lure me away from the spot. This is a strategy they use, pretending to be injured and easy prey, so getting a predator to follow them away from the nest. So I knew there definitely was something around there.

 

Both parents kept up this behaviour, alternating between dive-bombing us, flapping in the grass and screaming at the top of their voices.

 and this is what all the raucous was about!

Eventually, taking my cue from where they were at their most frantic, I found the nest - three beautiful speckled eggs so well camouflaged that it took me ten minutes to find it! The eggs were within meters of the truck's front wheels, my husband has stopped just in time! If it wasn't for this brave little bird stopping a 5-ton truck, the nest might have been destroyed.

After taking some photographs and enduring a lot more abuse from them, my husband reversed the truck and did a wide berth around the nest. Now that we know where they are, we avoid that area and hopefully will be able to see the birth of these little wonders.

The Crowned Plover (Vanellus coronatus) occurs across much of sub-Saharan Africa; in southern Africa it is common in Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, northern and south-western South Africa and southern Mozambique. It generally prefers dry, open grassland, sparse woodland, open areas in Karoo scrub and man-made habitats, such as open fields, short pastures, airports, golf courses and roadsides.

They build their nests totally in the open and only after the grass has been cut on our smallholding. No trees, long grass or any other sort of cover for hundreds of meters around them. It always amazes me that they face the elements this way, with no cover whatsoever, but understandably it gives them a wide range of sight to see any predators approaching.

They mainly eats termites (which make up approximately 80-90% of its diet), using the typical foraging technique of plovers, running, stopping then searching for prey on the ground. It often forages in groups, sometimes alongside Black-winged lapwings, moving in a regularly spaced line.

(See the eggs hatch here.)

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Farm Talk - Robin vs Wagtail

Camera: Fuji FinePix 2800ZOOM

I posted this article before, in Sept 2008, don't know how many people would go that far back in the archives, but at the moment I've got a very similar scenario going on between my Robins and Cape Wagtails, vying for the best nesting spot in my Fan Palm tree, so I thought I would just publish it again. Luckily, as yet, there have been no fatalities so I'm hoping they'll be able to sort out their differences.

Up until the end of April 2003, we had lived on our smallholding (8,5ha) in Tarlton since 1975. Over the years, I had established a lush garden with numerous indigenous trees and various types of ivies, one of which covered the kitchen wall on the South side of the house and in which the Wagtails made their home. I also had a resident pair of Cape Robins, nesting in the ivy creeping up a dead tree trunk opposite the Wagtails. I dearly loved my Cape Robins, who would take mince out of my hands at the kitchen window, but I must inform you that they are utter terrorists as far as the Wagtails are concerned!

Over a period of 2 weeks, I watched in fascination as both the Robin and Wagtail parents fed their chicks. (After a long, careful search I located the Wagtail nest in the ivy on the kitchen wall – the Robins’ nest was much lower opposite them and more obvious). Both sets of parents scurried hurriedly for the available cache of insects and the Robins, who would dive-bomb and chase them at every opportunity, constantly harassed worms, with one hitch – the Wagtails.



Then, one morning, I heard the Wagtails’ panicky cries and to my utter horror, found the Robin plucking the Wagtail chicks from their nest, dropping them, bleeding and fatally injured. The gentler Wagtails could do nothing but scurry helplessly about. I tried to rescue the unfortunate Wagtail chicks, but to no avail – they were already dying.

The only conclusion I could come to was that the Robins regarded the kitchen window and my mince meals as their domain and begrudged the Wagtails being anywhere in the vicinity!

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Farm talk - Winter in S.A.

After quite a severe winter and struggling with the many 'veld' fires we get here in South Africa every year (we're very much similar to Australia in that regard, and where do they COME from?) - the first spring rains have arrived - and it really amazes me that, no matter HOW much you water the garden, just 5mm of rain and everything is flowering, towering and spreading with zest and zeal.

The fires are always a mystery to me - part of our smallholding is not situated near a road, so it cannot be from somebody carelessly throwing down a match or cigarette, yet the fires would always start 'somewhere' and then spread ferociously the length and breadth of properties in its path, resulting in every possible helping hand rushing in with wet sacks, branches and whatever is available to try and extinguish the demon and rushing to get animals out of harm's way.

Life on a smallholding or small farm is always very much at the mercy of the rain - too little and you have to supplement from the borehole and in any drought situation, there's always the worry that the borehole might dry up. This is every small farmer's greatest fear, as it's costly and time-consuming drilling a new borehole, or two or three, because no matter how strongly the 'water diviner' insists THIS is the place to drill, there is no guarantee that one will find any water. Too much rain and the potatoes might rot.

During one such drought, the water level in our trusty 20-year old borehole dropped to beyond a depth that was viable to try and retrieve, so we opted for drilling a new hole. Now this takes major organisation, because you must remember that, from the minute that your water tanks run dry, you are in a position of having absolutely NO water - no bathing, no cup of tea, no water to cook with (so you end up frying or grilling everything), not even to wash your hands with!

So while the drilling contractor is busy setting up his equipment, we were busy organising with the next door farmer to get some water pumped into our tanks for daily use - pipes and fittings have to be bought and trenches dug for hundreds of meters to get the water into the tanks 10m high - there are equations to be worked out between the Kilowatt strength of the neighbour's pump, the distance to the tanks and the pressure needed to get the water 10m up ...

Once the water from the neighbour has filled the tanks, utter caution is exercised in the usage of the water - every spare drop is used to full capacity for flushing toilets, watering plants and supplying the animals with enough to drink. And possibly weeks later, when the new borehole is finished, all the equipment is removed from the old borehole and fitted to the newly drilled hole, once again trenches are dug for new electrical connections and then, hopefully, beautiful, sweet cool water once again flows.

I wonder how many town folk ever give this precious commodity a second thought ...

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FARM TALK - Straight from the Cow's Mouth!

Life on a farm or smallholding is certainly exciting and out-of-the-ordinary, to say the least. The thrill of having a big tract of land at one's disposal conjures up images of green fields, herds of cows, goats, sheep or whatever and neat, tidy and sturdy fences keeping everybody organised and in their place, sheds for lots of storage and the farm cat lazily strolling around on the look-out for those pesky rodents. The (old) tractor and trailer is loading and moving bales of food and the sprinklers are gently wetting the earth and getting everything to grow, grow, grow into MONEY!

For the lady of the farm, there are images of a rambling, yet comfortable, old farmhouse with chimneys and wrap-around porches, rolling green lawns and a herb garden close to the kitchen. Home-made butter, full cream Jersey milk, home-made bread and fresh garden vegetables are first on the list of things to do.



And of course, there have to be chickens (for Sunday lunch - except we can't slaughter Kentucky, the rooster, because he's such a character, or his wife Hendrina, because she's so sweet) and eggs for breakfast, to go with the home-made bread. You might have a couple of pigs (for the bacon - just not Miss Piggy because we reared her with a bottle) and then the kids want some rabbits, because there will be lots of carrots to feed them.



So now the vegetable garden has become a priority (after all the pens for chickens, pigs, rabbits, goats and sheep have been erected). And after all the beds have been properly prepared, fertilised and planted, at great expense, the first seedlings start showing their heads. Your next priority is a scarecrow or SOMETHING to keep away all the birds destroying the seedlings (after you have put up bird feeders all over the garden to attract garden birds!).

The vegetables are ready to be harvested and suddenly you find that EVERYTHING is ready at the same time! You now have 20 bags of cabbages, thousands of carrots (the rabbits can't keep up! even though the original two have now become 11), enough beetroot for several restaurants (a business opportunity?), every shelf and drawer of the refrigerator is packed with tomatoes and you have enough green beans and peas for six months. And family and friends can't understand why they have to pay for "free" vegetables from your own garden.

You also have so much milk and butter and cream now, that you decide this is definitely worth the trouble of selling it. You spend your mornings in the 'bakkie' (LDV) delivering milk (which has to be in an utterly bacteria-free bottle otherwise it goes sour within a couple of hours, so you spent the whole of last night sterilising bottles and getting up early was a nightmare) ... and there's still so much to do when you get back ... The chickens and rabbits have to be fed (and there's a hole in the fence so the rabbits are all in the vegetable garden), the milk from the cows that were milked at dawn has to be de-creamed (for the butter), the butter has to be made and bottles sterilised once again - and some of the neighbours never left their bottles out, so you actually have to rush to town as well to buy a dozen more. And the local market where you established a contact for selling some of your vegetables expects their delivery before 7.30am. You suddenly remember that you also have to be back in time for the truck collecting the pigs you sold because everybody at home suddenly had an aversion to bacon and besides, nobody wanted the job of cleaning the pig sties ... besides, the tractor broke down last week, so the trailer couldn't be loaded with all the muck to be taken away - will have to wait a while now ...



You're sitting on your wrap-around porch, exhausted, having a well-deserved cup of tea, admiring your green fields and neat fences and your heart swells with pride and gratitude - this is ALL YOURS! No matter all the hard work and early mornings - you now have a steady income from the vegetable garden, which has grown to three times its size, and the milk and butter, and the kids are enjoying the new pony enormously. You have learnt what to cut down on (like rabbits, for instance) and everybody has fallen into a comfortable routine, knowing exactly what needs to be done and when.

Your thoughts stray to a new idea - how about a strawberry patch? Surely there's a big market for strawberries - and mushrooms, maybe ...?

"Whatever you put your attention on gets energy from you and grows."

FARM TALK - Pappa Goose - In Memoriam

I look at life as a gift from the Universe. Now that it is at an end, I have no right to complain.

---Unknown

My sketch for today - in memoriam of Pappa Goose - 1991 - 2009.

"Pappa Goose" watercolour on Visual 140gsm - 05/09/09 Maree©

Pappa Goose, an Egyptian Goose, was brought to me to take care of him in 1991 - don't know how old he was - he had one gammy foot as a result of fishing gut being entangled around his leg and severing the tendons and nerves, causing his foot to pull backwards. I was lucky to have the pleasure of his presence in my life for 18 years when, finally today, I had to have him euthanized because his legs were riddled with arthritis and he could hardly stand up anymore. If there is a Goose Heaven, I'm sure that's where he is now.

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FARM TALK - Spring Fever, Summer Madness

Spring fever and summer madness happen on a smallholding over-night. The one minute you're still in the grip of ice cold frost and the next minute the first rains have fallen and everything is blossoming and needs to be cut or trimmed, dug over and fertilized and everything hatches or gets born at the same time.

Calves are frolicking in the field and the ducks and geese are busy leading their ducklings and goslings through the garden on a never-ending search for insects and tasty buds (including the newly-planted seedlings in the bed borders!).

The Koi fish are also spawning in the pond and thousands of tadpoles have hatched to the prior songs of their parents, lullabying us to sleep every night - there is no sound like water bubbling over the waterfall and frogs serenading one another at night to put you into a peaceful state of sleep, awaking fresh and raring to go early the next morning.

Dragonflies appear out of nowhere and provided your pond water is healthy and passes their inspection, lay their eggs in the water, and the next generation lives as Naiads (dragonfly nymphs) under the water for the next couple of months until they crawl out of the water onto some tall
plants, shed their nymph bodies and emerge as the spectacular dragonfly, once again claiming their territory as their parents did before them.

 

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Imagecredit 

--> A mole I caught in the garden was summarily evicted and moved to the other side of the garden wall (I apologise for the poor image quality, but he was very aggressive and just wouldn't stay still to be photographed! And those teeth are enough to scare the pants off anybody!)

--> But now also starts the never-ending fight with the moles, leaving fresh mounds of earth all over your freshly-mowed , immaculate lawn. Our smallholding is totally poison-free, so every home remedy and alternative method for eradicating pests has been tried and tested, from 2L bottles of water lying on the lawn to loud music being pumped down the tunnels to hose pipes filling the tunnels with water (with the assumption that the wet and noisy conditions will be too uncomfortable for them to bear and they will therefore surface on the OTHER side of the wall, out of the garden). Alternatively, one succumbs to the daily mounds of fresh earth, raking them down and all over the lawn as a top soil treatment.

Image credit 

As far as moles are concerned, the Golden Mole is a welcome visitor, as he is carnivorous and eats all the cut worm and other harmful insects, whereas the Rat Mole is the one being chased from pillar to post for his habit of eating the bulbs and roots of everything in his path ... but what a wonderful sight to see a mole surfacing at night, grunting and scratching around under the safe cover of darkness (or so he thought!) until he is swiftly scooped into a bucket (those teeth are lethal!) and released the next morning far away enough to, hopefully, not find his or her way back again (and after much soul-searching and worrying about any possible babies that might be left behind and abandoned, common sense prevailed and hearts were hardened and the thought swept out of our minds in favour of a mole-free garden.)

Snakes are treated with similar love and attention, being caught and released in a far-away, safe environment or, in the case of a Mole snake or Brown House snake, being left to their own devices, as rats can be a big problem on smallholdings with all the food being served up for ducks, geese, chickens, etc.

And so summer, and the life-cycle of a smallholding, starts once again!

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Farm Talk - Winter 2008

A cycle has been completed once again - June, and another Winter on our doorsteps. Winter 2006, as the picture shows, was quite severe for us in South Africa, as snow is something we rarely experience and therefore always creates great excitement as well as hard-ship. Especially in the farming community, as livestock is always at risk because of the vast sizes of our farms and the large numbers of livestock we farm with - no barns really big enough to house all of them. No protection against the freezing temperatures and also a great problem with feed supplies.

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Another Winter special is the lovely temperatures we can enjoy at the Coast - no blistering heat or searing sun and a lovely ocean to boot!

On farms and smallholdings though, Winter does also bring a special set of circumstances - exposed pipes from boreholes and water tanks often freeze up and then water is a problem until the sun has defrosted things sufficiently for water to flow freely again. Staff handling livestock outside have to be warmly clothed, wrapped in scarves and gloves and often having their 'konka' (a fire made in a drum) placed close-by to supply some warmth.

Luckily our Winters are short-lived, with our Autumn months being warm, calm and serene. In March the most beautiful colours start emerging as trees put on their Autumn outfits, getting ready for their long-earned rest. April brings all the dropping leaves, ensuing in a great garden clean-up as leaves are gathered for the compost heap ready for use in Spring.

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May is one of the most beautiful months, warm enough outside to sit at the garden table and enjoy the birds frolicking around. The bird baths are still in full use and the lesser foliage on the trees allows the birds to sit and bask in the sun, drying out before the flit off on the next adventure. In June winter starts seriously setting in and by August/September we're ready for Spring again!

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Farm Talk - Sunny, the Black Sunbird

Sunny, the Black Sunbird Female

I feel very sorry for Gary Craye of Hartebeespoort (his letter in “In Your Garden” June/July 2003 issue), as I have had a similar experience to M. Joubert of Sedgefield.

I had a resident pair of Black Sunbirds on our 8,5ha smallholding in Tarlton (district Krugersdorp), nesting in a (high!) Blue gum tree outside the Cottage kitchen. After a severe windstorm, I found two tiny chicks (identity unknown to me at that stage) on the lawn, one dying shortly after I had picked them up.

I scoured the trees for signs of any nests, only to notice one hanging from a branch by a couple of threads, much too high for me to reach or repair. After closer inspection, the obvious long beak was an indication that I had a little Sunbird on my hands. I have reared many little chicks, all seed, fruit or insect eaters, but have never dealt with a nectar feeder!

In a panic, I phoned our local (bird expert) veterinarian, who told me of a product (powder) which you mixed with water to feed nectar feeders. I rushed out, bought a supply of the nectar and shortly the little Sunbird was greedily feeding from the syringe. It was a little female (brown and stripy) and I have yet to come across a more loving and intelligent bird.

At night, she would sleep in her basket, surrounded by warm towels and during the day, she would perch either in her cage or on my shoulder, graduating to sleeping on top of the cage. During the day, she would flit around the house, following me from room to room. When hunger struck, she would perch on my shoulder, begging for food by pushing her beak into my ear, neck and anywhere else she saw fit! I had some Kniphophia (Red Hot Pokers) and various vines and flowering creepers in the garden – I would pick the flowers for her and she immediately would dip into them, sucking at the nectar, begging for more.

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Then came the day of her first sojourn outside. I hoped and prayed that she would be safe, and as I walked outside with her perching on my shoulder, she surveyed her surrounds, cocking her little head from side to side. Then suddenly she took off, flitting around madly, tweeting in her excitement. I brushed aside a couple of tears, ready to say goodbye, but the next instant she was back on my shoulder, insisting on my cupped hand to nestle in (her favourite place whenever I would take an afternoon nap on the couch).

These outings continued for about two weeks until, as soon as she saw the open door, she would go out, staying out the whole day, only coming home at dusk, to contentedly sit on top of her cage, turning her head away and sneering at the Avian nectar being offered her – she’d had better than that!

I noticed that nectar was actually quite a small part of her diet, as she spent most of the day snatching insects off tree branches and leaves.

Then Sunny (as I called her) discovered a male and, of course, they lived happily ever after! I was very sad to say goodbye to such a WONDERFUL little creature, but at the same time, SO thankful to have been allowed to have a peek into the wonderful world of one of God’s greatest creations – birds.

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Black Sunbird Male

Black Sunbird Nest

Sunbird facts

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Description

The family ranges in size from the 5-gram Black-Bellied Sunbird to the Spectacles Spiderhunter , at about 30 grams. Like the hummingbirds, sunbirds are strongly sexually dimorphic, with the males usually brilliantly plumaged in metallic colours. In addition to this the tails of many species are longer in the males, and overall the males are larger. Sunbirds have long thin down-curved bills and brush-tipped tubular tongues, both adaptations to their nectar feeding. The spiderhunters, of the genus Arachnothera, are distinct in appearance from the other members of the family. They are typically larger than the other sunbirds, with drab brown plumage and strong down-curved beaks.

Species of sunbirds that live in high altitudes will enter torpor while roosting at night, lowering their body temperature and entering a state of low activity and responsiveness.

Distribution and habitat

Sunbirds are tropical species, with representatives from Africa to Australasia; the greatest variety of species is in Africa, where the group probably arose. Most species are sedentary or short-distance seasonal migrants. The sunbirds occur over the entirely of the family's range, whereas the spiderhunters are restricted to Asia.

The sunbirds and spiderhunters occupy a wide range of habitats, with a majority of species being found in primary rain forest, but other habitats used by the family including disturbed secondary forest, open woodland, open scrub and Savannah, coastal scrub and alpine forest. Some species have readily adapted to human modified landscapes such as plantations, gardens and agricultural land. Many species are able to occupy a wide range of habitats from sea level to 4900m.

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Behaviour

Sunbirds are active diurnal birds that generally occur in pairs or occasionally in small family groups. A few species occasionally gather in larger groups, and Sunbird will join with other birds to mob potential predators, although sunbirds will also aggressively target other species, even if they are not predators, when defending their territories.

They are generally monogamous and often territorial, although a few species of sunbirds have lekking behaviour. Up to three eggs are laid in a purse-shaped suspended nest. The female builds the nest and incubates the eggs alone, although the male assists in rearing the young after hatching.

Relationship with humans

Overall the family has fared better than many others, with only seven species considered to be threatened with extinction. Most species are fairly resistant to changes in habitat, and while attractive the family is not sought after by the cage bird trade, as they have what is considered an unpleasant song and are tricky to keep alive. Sunbirds are considered attractive birds and readily enter gardens where flowering plants are planted to attract them. There are a few negative interactions, for example the Scarlet-Chested Sunbird is considered a pest in cocoa plantations as it spreads parasitic mistletoes.

Orange breasted Sunbird

Collared Sunbird

Nectarinia_regia Sunbird

Plain-throated Sunbird

Purple-rumped Sunbird

Red-chested Sunbird

Crimson Sunbird - Male above and Female below

Pics from Wikipedia

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FARM TALK - The World of Jacko

Hi! I am Jacko, a Foxie/Jack Russell cross, living at Ga-Sethlong, a beautiful home on a small-holding on the edge of the Cradle of Human Kind in Gauteng, South Africa. I was born on the 1st September 2005, to a healthy litter of 7, with 3 brothers and 3 sisters. This is my story.
 

When I was about 4 weeks old, I remember catching a glimpse of the world for the first time - a confusing array of brothers and sisters and blankets (up until then, it was my Mother’s smell that guided me to her warmth and that wonderful, warm and satisfying taste of milk). There were strange goings-on, with faces popping in and plenty of oohing and aahing. For a couple of days this carried on, but this was home and was comforting in a strange way.

Then, when I was 5 weeks old, in the dark of one night, a hand grabbed me from my Mother’s side, whipped me into a bag and swiftly I was spirited off to a strange and unknown world. I was beside myself! Where was everybody? Where was my Mother?! I cried all night long, getting a couple of smacks in the process, to my utter horror.

I spent an utterly miserable night, shivering in the strange bag, rough and cold on my skin. I slept fitfully, waking often and calling for my Mother, but to no avail.

The next morning I was unceremoniously hauled out of the bag and carried by the scruff of my neck (I struggled profusely, but just got a smack for my efforts from this unkind stranger) to the street corner, where the stranger was offering me for sale to all the passers-by.
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The streets were bustling with activity and strange smells and noises and several people stopped and petted me. Someone prodded me with a sharp object and pulled my ears, to see “if he would make a good watch dog”. They laughed scornfully when I yelped and struggled to free myself from the grip on my neck.

We spent most of the morning standing there and I endured a couple of hours of being passed from one person to another, hoping for a kind hand or word, but was just handed back roughly to my tormentor.

I was starving and a cold wind was howling around the buildings. I tried to snuggle closer to the stranger but was roughly tucked under his arm while he lit a cigarette.

By this time, the stranger was desperate to get rid of me and when a man stopped and enquired if he could hold me, the stranger impatiently handed me over. The man fondled my ears and stroked my back with his warm hands. My heart leapt at this act of kindness and I licked his fingers, eliciting a smile from him. The man haggled with the stranger for a while and they obviously settled upon a price, because the next minute he wrapped me in his coat and carried me to his car.

When we got to the man’s car, he took off his jacket, wrapped me in it so that only my head stuck out (it was SO warm!) and we drove off. We drove for quite a while but even though I was starving, I felt warm and somehow at ease.

When arrived at our destination, the man lifted me out and carried me into his house. There we were met by his wife and he told her about the unkind stranger and how miserable I had looked when he saw me. She cradled me in her arms and immediately gave me some warm milk to drink. I lapped it up! It wasn’t like my Mother’s milk, but I decided it would do for now. The man’s wife (I discovered her name was Maree), made a warm bed of blankets for me on the couch and I immediately fell asleep with Maree sitting next to me - warm and content, but dreaming of my Mother and making soft little yelps in my sleep. I hadn’t slept since the previous night I had spent in the bag, cold and unhappy.

When I awoke, a new life started for me. I received unconditional love from Maree and Dave and soon the memories of my Mother started to fade. I have a special blanket of my own, which is soft and furry like my mom and sometimes when I’m curled up in it, I still have visions of my mom and get the urge to suck and paw the blanket.

I was also introduced to Maree and Dave’s other dog, Tyson, a HUGE Rottweiller, and at first I was very cautious. But Tyson soon made it clear that he was quite happy to see me and we now have a wonderful time in the garden playing tag or just being silly. I think he was a bit lonely before I came along.

Now I spend my days in the lovely garden, revelling in playing games with Maree, who buys me lots of toys, my favorite being my red ball.

I also make sure that the Ducks and Geese and Pheasants don’t stray too far away - there are some very unkind people out there! And I’ve discovered that I’m an EXCELLENT watch-dog! I hear every strange sound and warn Maree & Dave immediately of any impending danger.

As I said, there are some real nasties out there!

My favorite is when we all go out together. Maree lets me fetch my harness and leash, which she then puts on me, and we’re ready to go. I normally look out of the window and love the strange smells wafting past - I then also growl at any suspicious looking characters that look like they’re getting a bit too close for comfort. At our destination, I’m then allowed to explore every nook and cranny (still on my leash - Maree is very fussy that I might get lost or something). After some of these outings I’m really exhausted and then have a good sleep.

At night, after supper, we all watch TV with intervals of short games, naps and snacks. When it’s bed-time, Maree fetches my blanket, which goes on top of their bed in between the two of them and we settle in for the night, me with an ever-vigilant ear. Maree says I still have dreams about my Mother because I sometimes cry in my sleep, but I can’t remember anymore - just a faint glimmer of a childhood that was rudely cut short. But Maree says just as well the horrible stranger stole me, otherwise we wouldn’t be together today ...

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