The chook has taken to wandering into the kitchen and clucking indignantly for her breakfast when she arrives. She almost made it all the way to my writing cave on Tuesday before I realised what was happening. Cute as it is, this is definitely not a behaviour I want to encourage.
The blue-tongue keeps turning up by the Xmas swing while I'm reading, or is sunning itself on the patio of a morning when I open up the house. Right now, it's scurrying around amongst the dead leaves about the back shed, poking its head up every now and then to scowl at me. You didn't think skinks could scowl? Believe me, they can. Possibly there's more than one - I'm not adept at distinguishing lizardy individuals. Sometimes I hear a hiss and look down to see one at my feet warning me off, and once it's sure I'm suitably impressed, it arrogantly, and not too hurriedly, exits the stage. And just like the chook, they keep the cats entertained (my mighty hunters just plop themselves down next to any passing blue-tongue and curiously regard their every move.)
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