It’s filled with, last time I checked, petunias, tulips, rhododendron, lilys, berry bushes, strawberry plants, nearly a hundred different kinds of roses and what not. The garden is full of life and colour three out of the four seasons each year. My mum has put incredibly much effort into it ever since we moved here (when I was four or something).

Because of our garden (and also the many neighbours large gardens) we also have plenty of small animals living near our house. The hedgehogs are my favourites. We see them every single year during summer. Sometimes a mother with cubs, and sometimes only a grown one. We’ve taken care of quite a few cubs who’s gotten left behind – last year one of them fell off the low wall edge that separates our and our next door neighbours properties and damaged it’s foot. We nursed it a bit, gave it food, water and such, and then gave it over to a guy who’s work is to take care of them.

This year I’ve seen three of the pointy cuties. One single hedgehog, which didn’t have any problems with being taken pictures of, and one mother and cub which we left alone.

Sure, they might be terrifying creatures with their reptile eyes and huge jaws, but a picture I recently saw in a science magazine just made me think about their shape and behaviour a bit more.

After all, it can’t possibly be comfortable to roll around like they do with their death roll, and they has lots of battle scars since they’re violent predators. Not to mention the caiman’s teeth are so large, and their bite so strong, that they’ve got holes where the tooth edge meets the jaw. And not tiny holes either.

Rant done. No picture. By the way, I so want to see wild caimans (& crocodiles / alligators / gharials) and giant otters.

It was all the way back in ’07, and let’s just say ladybirds aren’t all that common during winter. More like none-existent. I mean, where would they live when the snow reaches over a grown man’s knees?

Needless to say, I got rather fascinated. Or obsessed. Whatever comes first. I followed the damn thing around with my Nikon D50 for three hours. In my bedroom, up the curtains, over diverse DVDs, around a couple of lamps, down two floors, up one floor. I thought the kitten ate it more than just a few times, as she was also hunting it down. Just with claws, sharp teeth and the kitten-ish playfulness that could be the end of every small animal she came across.

After a long hunt, the ladybird actually managed to get to the living room and into my mother’s hair. At least it stayed there long enough for me to take some (not too good) pictures.

And after that I’m fairly sure the cat ate it.