The Presence Of Worms

Outside. First time in a fortnight. Glorious day. Under the shade of the fig tree. Seeing all the small jobs that need doing. Deadhead calendulas, cornflowers and campanula. Remove gone-to-seed-prematurely rocket and ready-to-eat beetroot. Renew saucer of beer (deadly slug bait). Water. Water. Water. Storing the knowledge for later.
Observing bright orange-beaked male blackbird. Digging worms out of the lawn. Every attempt successful. I wonder: Can he sense the presence of worms?

*artwork by Degas