This chubbly little fellow came close to our kitchen window hoping for some of the beans on toast we were eating.

In some ways these giant swarms are impressive – forming strange patterns in the sky and making a swoooshing noise as they pass overhead. But the mess they make! And the smell – it hangs in the air, and sticks to the back of your throat.

This was the last pomegranate in the tree. Picking it left me with cuts and scratches. (I had no idea how vicious these bushes are). Obviously the trick is to go earlier in the season to get the easy stuff – and leave the rest for the tourists.

This guy was on a ridge about half a mile away. At first I thought he was shouting at me – like “Get out the way” or “Stop picking my fruit” – but I think it is more likely that he had a dog in the scrub.