They'll make a killing!

It's bloody marvellous. Some likely lads fresh out of Victoria Uni have invented a re-setting stoat trap which will kill 12 stoats before human intervention is needed to re-set the trap. Humble though this may sound, it means that each of these new traps will eliminate 12 stoats a month - instead of the current tally of 1 per trap per month. The trap will also knock off rats, and the inventors are now developing a version for opossum.

I reckon that this invention makes sliced bread look very ordinary. Let's give these lads some more problems to solve...

Bless the journalists though - they tell us that... "The self-setting trap ... uses a ground-breaking, gas-powered mechanism to automatically reset itself after activation". I have seen the video and I'm pretty sure the ground stays intact. But the trap is innovative, that's for sure!

Bugger, Book-Book's Back

At first I was thrilled to see her. After a torrid winter it was lovely to be outside in the early spring sunshine, and Book-book's presence seemed an extra bonus. Even a couple of holes dug in my vege garden did not bother me - she hadn't dug up any of the broadies. The artichoke was still happily growing away in the gentle sunshine that reaches into the top eastern part of our estate at this time of year, unperturbed by Book-book's nearby crater. I looked for eggs, but without suck-cess.

Encouraged by the fact that a couple of lettuces survived the entire winter without being frosted, I decided to cast caution to the winds, and possibly money, by planting a tomato plant AND some basil plants outside - in September! We then had a couple of frosts; and on each frosty morning, on my way to collect the paper, I anxiously investigated the health of my optimist's experiment.


I should have known I was looking in the wrong direction for trouble. The tomato and basil said Pooh! to the frosts (they are snuggled into a warm corner of the vege garden with sheltering pittosporum looming leafily over them). However they were helpless against the ravages of the evil Book-book. She methodically stripped every single leaf off the tomato, leaving stalks so clean they were smoother than those of a swan plant recently visited by 500 marauding monarch caterpillars. I have now wrapped the poor little skeleton in protective netting, and am hoping for a full recovery.

Naturally I looked to Ian for sympathy. He seems, however, in favour of Book-book receiving some form of recompense for last year's eggs. He's not that keen on tomatoes, either.

I think it's only a matter of time before he sees what Book-book has done with the grass clippings, though - and then...