Neighbour-across-the-road sat with me on The Bench today, and suddenly announced, "Hair come Scruffy!" (That's how she talks, broad Norfolk)
I couldn't see anyone walking along our road, but she was pointing to a bird. It's a male blackbird, and his feathers are in complete disarray, sticking out at all angles.

It's the one she feeds with scraps and raisins, and he comes right into her kitchen and sits on the counter top waiting to be served. He obviously knows her voice, as he approached confidently right up to our feet, head on one side.
I hurried indoors to get some raisins and he actually took them from our hands!

She was telling me that all the land on which our houses are built once belonged to her grandfather, a dairy farmer. He had one bull and several milking cows. She'd been chased by the latter many times when they had calves with them, but said that bulls charge with their eyes closed, and if you dodge about, they won't get you!
I never knew that...