Tails of the Unexpected
Closer inspection, with the assistance of her ladyship's handsome walking stick, revealed that this was not merely a chunk of fur randomly moulted by one of the many dogs which are walked by their owners in the area. It was the tip of a grey squirrel's tail.
The almost inescapable conclusion to which any rational person would be drawn upon observing this fragment of a squirrel is that the erstwhile possessor of this tail tip must have met an untimely end at the paws of either a local cat or a foxy gentleman with sandy whiskers.
But Lady Bracknell, who has a great fondness for squirrels (yes, even the grey ones), and who shrinks from enivisaging nature red in tooth and claw, has a theory.
The squirrel in question may well have been a member of that rare phenomenon, the squirrel/lizard cross. Whilst retaining all the outward appearances of its squirrel ancestors, the squizard's reptilian antecedents are present in its ability to shed its tail in moments of extreme peril.
Thus, the tail tip on the tarmacadam was evidence not of a bloody slaughter, but of the triumph of the squizardy prey in fooling whatever had attempted to catch and eat it. The victorious squizard will even now be perched in the lower branches of one of the many fine trees which surround Sefton Park, waiting only for its tail to grow back before it once again leaps from branch to branch with gay abandon.
(Lady Bracknell instructed her editor to include a photograph of a squizard in this blog entry, but is advised that such an item cannot be found on the interwebnet. Not even for ready money. Odd.)
In other lizard-related news, Lady Bracknell took lunch yesterday with a charming Welsh gentleman whom she had not seen for many years. She was greatly amused to hear that this gentleman's son has a pet lizard called Eddie.