I used to think midges were the greatest pests of the sky. Don’t get me wrong, they’re high on the list. Calm summer evenings might be rare, but their presence is everlasting - and irritating. No, the true pests, I have come to realise, are the Hoodies. Greyish-blue bodies with jet black heads, Hooded Crows patrol Rum’s skies.

I’ve often seen one flying overhead, wings spread wide and swooping low, and mistaken it for something much larger - something fun like a Buzzard or a Hen-Harrier. There’s one that sits atop the trees I can see from my living room window, selecting a different branch each day as if dependent on its mood.

And he’s in my bins. Again. I didn’t realise they went for bin bags until I left for work one morning and saw an empty packet of rice noodles in my front garden. The exact type I’d had for dinner a few days ago. A few more steps and I saw an empty bag of my favourite crisps, then a chicken cat food sachet, then a packet of baby wipes. The entire contents of my bin bag that I’d naively popped into the open-back of my ATV an hour ago were strewn across the street for all to see.

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