Dragon Days

I bought the camera during lock-down to see what wildlife was visiting my garden. At that time any vague interest could be fully explored, indulged and exhausted. There was more freedom then in some ways... I miss that.

 Anyway, the camera gets strapped to something, in my case a spare brick that I just moved around the garden; and when it detects motion it starts filming for 15 seconds. Day or night. At first, I just had video clips of ungainly wood pigeons, prowling cats and unsurprisingly perhaps, rats. I called the biggest Fat Guss and watched the footage of him removing all the nuts from the bird feeder. Cheeky git! 

I tried different spots in my long, half wild garden. Behind the raised beds we had a mouse, much cuter and more likeable than Fat Guss, the thieving bastard. By the compost heap, a robust hedgehog lumbered along the fence line and disappeared through a gap. Yes! I thought. Now we're talking, Classic British Wildlife! It turns out I had foxes living under my shed, I’d never seen them during the day. Their glowing eyes always appeared on the videos first before they trotted into view. They materialised out of the darkness to sniff the patio where my lunch crumbs lay. They liked to drink from the pond - another lock down project. Occasionally I got a good action shot like the time next-doors cat chased a mouse and it tried to hide behind the camera of all places! That was a good one, but one day I got something I wasn't expecting at all! 

The creature appeared from within the greenhouse and sauntered out through the half open door, which never fully closed. At first, I thought it was the mouse again. It was the right size, but not very mouse like. The grainy footage appeared to show 4 legs, a long tail, but also what looked like maybe wings? and a face that was... snoutish? That was my first video of the creature, it was in shot for 4 seconds. I paused and jumped back and forth frame by frame. "What are you? A type of newt?" I mused. "Not Classic British Wildlife. That's for sure." 

The second time the camera was positioned right next to the greenhouse door. Time for your close up, I thought, as I set the brick and camera on a flat bit of grass. I hadn't been in the greenhouse for a while and didn't use it for gardening anymore. It was mainly a collection of plastic pots, bamboo canes, firewood, all manner of gardening paraphernalia, spiderwebs and dead moths. Basically lots of places for something small to hide. There was a strange whiff in the air, like rotting eggs or sulphur I thought, but I dismissed it as fumes from the compost heap. I saw nothing out of the ordinary and nothing appeared on the film that night or the next. But the night after that BINGO! I caught the blighter. All 15 glorious black and white seconds of it. What was it? I still couldn't say. Well... actually I could say, but you would think me quite mad. Do I have to say? You won't believe me, others didnt. It was a dragon. It was CLEARLY a very small dragon. Scaled, smooth, it moved like a big cat on the hunt. It was larger than a mouse now, but nowhere near as large as Fat Guss. I was speechless. "Must be some… exotic species!" I proposed to myself. "Escaped pet perhaps". 

The next day I posted on the street's WhatsApp group. "Anyone lost an exotic pet? I think its living in my greenhouse, for the warmth..." I shared the video with some trepidation. I didn't know what to make of it. "Good one Alan!", came the reply from Sheila at number 48. Laughing crying faces and thumbs up from several other neighbours. "Is this one of those lockdown viral trends?" asked Angela, who like me was a bit too long in the tooth to know what a viral trend actually was. Hmmmm, not that then I thought. 

That night I placed down a bowl of tinned tuna for it. Who knows what dragons eat, but that attracted the cats back and my dragon didn't show. I daren't move the camera, this was the spot. So I persisted and a few more nights went by. One morning I found a dead robin just out of camera shot. Its wings were torn off and its feathers plucked, its neck torn open. Small flecks of bird blood surrounded it. I buried it, poor thing. Perhaps a sparrow hawk got it, I hope the same fate hadn't befallen my dragon. At this point I was hurrying down the garden with anticipation every morning in my pyjama bottoms and dressing gown, tea mug in hand, waiting to see if it had visited again.

A few nights later the camera still hadn't recorded my dragon, (3 mice and a large moth), but it did catch a commotion inside the greenhouse. Pots started to move, shoved about, rolled across the floor, there was a blur, 2 blurs; fairly big, dark smudges appeared and blossomed on the greenhouse door. I knew what they were, I had seen them when I went to check the camera footage that morning. Blood, splattered and dripping, from inside my greenhouse. Fat Guss, or what was left of him, lay splayed on the floor, his rib cage spread open and the guts, well, they were missing. 

The first thing I did was change my pyjamas, as I don't mind telling you I'd spilt tea all down my front; and I was very glad I hadn't had my toast yet. Once dressed and armed with bin bags and gardening gloves I set to cleaning up. The greenhouse isn't massive, but the potential for hiding places is large. I felt as if something were watching me, it could have been paranoia, but who knew where the dragon was? If it was now large enough to kill Fat Guss it must have grown and I don't believe it could have been in there without me knowing... but the camera hadn't picked up its coming or going through the door. A few times while cleaning I jumped badly. The wind rose and branches made a shuddering squeak as they scrapped the glass. The noise went right through me and I'm fairly sure I let out an involuntary squeak myself! 

I checked and rechecked the videos. The camera was aimed for a close up of the bottom of the door, where I assumed the dragon would slink in and out, but my stupidity dawned on me. This thing had wings! I'd seen them. I moved the camera back away from the green house and checked the framing, I could now see the whole door. I went inside for more tea, listened to Pop Master on Radio 2 and ruminated. I went back out with 2 mismatched China bowls from my kitchen. One I filled using a small watering can, the other I popped some raw bacon in. And the remaining 4 slices I had for my lunch, although considering my morning activities I skipped the ketchup on this occasion. 

The footage that night was incredible! My dragon was coming and going freely. It was of an equal sizing to Fat Guss, roughly kitten sized, so must be a serious predator to have taken him down. She, I have no idea about dragon anatomy, but she seemed like a she to me; swooped towards the half open greenhouse door silently like an owl, expertly folding her wings at the last minute, to post herself through the gap. She ate and drank greedily from my bowls, although this footage wasn't great through the greenhouse glass and from a distance. This was unbelievable! An actual dragon! She didn't appear to settle down at the end of the night, but she returned to my greenhouse periodically every hour or so. Enjoying the residual warmth of the day I thought. Hmmm. 

Why didn’t I tell anyone? I suppose in a way I wanted to keep her to myself. Besides people would say the pressure of lockdown had got to me or some such wouldn’t they? It doesn’t sound plausible, video can be doctored.

That day I ordered some things online, still being lock-down as it was and eagerly awaited their delivery. I got a heat lamp from a reptile shop, I stocked up on more bacon, a couple of extension cables to run down the garden, and some WD40 to oil the greenhouse door. I cleaned out its runners so it slid smoothly and noiselessly on its tracks again. Leaving it half open, as before. The camera I moved into the greenhouse and placed hidden under some compost sacking with a clear view of the refilled bowls. 

From then on my life became all about routine and devotion to my dragon. I was growing her in my greenhouse, nurturing her. She had gone from a whisp of a dragon, tail like a bean tendril, fragile petal like wings; to a magnificent beast, she was blooming right in front of me. Scales gleaming, deep green like glossy leaves, shiny red eyes like winter berries; and an appetite no gardening analogy could be adequate enough for. By the end of the month she was as big as a badger and I'd cleared out some of the greenhouses clutter to make more room for her, the door was permanently wide open due to her size; and not a problem now she had her trusty heat lamp. 

I’d been so wrapped up in my garden and the dragon, I hadn't been keeping an eye on my phone. I don't turn is on every day, I've not got family like other people. Anyway, when I opened the local WhatsApp group I was shocked to realise there was a whole thread about missing and mutilated cats in the area. Quite a few people were distraught and Mr Calderdale at number 71, said he’d let his dog Misty out for a wee at 11 last night, and she’d gone missing from his garden! Oh…. My free hand crept to my mouth and the one holding my phone began to shake a bit. I knew the explanation for this. Had I thought she was happy simply eating my bacon from a bowl each night? She was now up to a full pack a night (I was buying the cheap stuff), but it obviously wasn't enough. I had helped her grow into a prize winning beauty, but she was obviously naturally a hunter. Where did I think this would end? Really? I was living in the moment too much.

I hadn't wanted to involve the authorities, she has a part of nature, wild and free and all that. Never the less I decided that that night, when she basked in my greenhouse, I would attempt to creep up and shut the door. Seal her in while I thought of what to do next. Perhaps she was about to fledge as it were; and she wouldn't be my responsibility any more. That thought made me sad, but if she could take a dog, she could probably take a small child and I wouldn't allow that to happen. Couldn’t. That day I bought 3 whole packs of bacon and some sausages for good measure. 

Later that night I wedged myself between the compost heap and the fence, dressed in black and feeling a fair amount of apprehension. The smell was horrendous, had she been using it as a toilet? It was too dark to see, but now I thought of it, after I discovered her, I'd stopped filming other parts of my garden. Were the mice still there? The hedgehog? Fat Guss certainly wasn't. The foxes?! I was too alert to doze, however I still nearly missed her silent flight in. I was star gazing, watching the satellites whizz overhead past the big dipper, they'd really increased in numbers the last few years. So strange to witness the plane free sky that Covid had brought about. Anyway, a dark shape suddenly rippled in front of the stars on a swift trajectory towards the greenhouse. I took a deep breath and crept out of my hiding spot towards the door.  

As I approached, I could see she had her back to me, face down in the meaty offerings I'd left her. My fingers slid around the cold metal handle and I was about to slide the door shut, but my breath caught as I took in her true beauty. I was seeing her with my own eyes, no camera between us. Her scales, her wings, the swish of her tail. How to describe her terrible beauty? She sensed me then and turned. Her large, spinning red eyes on me... and that’s pretty much all I remember! The next thing I know I'm trying to slam the door shut. Slide it with all my force. I was in her sights and she was barrelling towards me. There was a terrible pain in my hand, a ripping, the sound of broken glass and blood. 

I drove myself to the hospital. Tea towel round my hand, blood dripping through the material onto my car seat. I told them I severed in on the greenhouse glass. They sent a constable round to search for my finger, he didn’t find it. I hadn't even bothered looking, I knew she'd eaten it. Bit the hand that fed her! Ha! The constable did find the blood though, and the broken glass, the bowls of water and meat... and the cat, dog, bird and fox bones behind the shed. “Organised like a nest” they said at my trial, they theorised I'd been planning on curling up and sleeping on them once it had been completed. As if! These old bones like memory foam. The hospital staff said my hand injury was consistent with a bite mark, probably from a medium or large sized animal. Presumably cornered in the greenhouse and desperate. Well, I couldn’t argue with that. Still it’s not bad here. They let me help out in the prison library, I've ordered some new wildlife books and they have a garden with a greenhouse here too. I'm watched closely. Still. Something new may bloom yet.