When I was about 7, living in a house in the suburbs of London which had a six foot high brick wall all around the garden and solid, pet proof timber gates, I found a tortoise in the garden. I named him Henry. [Renamed Henrietta having discovered how to sex a tortoise.] (He has the same trouble with llamas. Lo,TG Ed) 3 years later she disappeared. {(Ssssh. I suspect a tragedy, a tempting pile of leaves, hibernation and then .... penny for the guy mister. Oh dear. Lo,TG Ed)}



Later, living in the Oast house in the wilds of Kent, a homing pigeon decided to come and stay. The TG used her beguiling ways so we could read the ankle band, telephoned the Pigeon Fanciers Association who came and picked him/her up and gave him/her a lift home [lazy so-and-so].

A cockatiel arrived in the utility room at the same house a little while later. We tried to find the owner to no avail and eventually gave him/her to a local breeder.

On board our first yacht I was sailing near the Azores [the TG was working in England at the time to pay for the boat – tee hee] when a homing pigeon collapsed on deck gasping for water and some food. He/she enjoyed a free ride to Gibraltar [ we were accompanied by pilot whales for over 24 hours – magic ] and then decided that he/she knew the way from there and took off.

(They run away alot, don't they Peabrain? Lo,Etc.)

I’m not going to mention Gertrude ………………. (Always so slow to catch up... Lo,TG Ed)