A Dusty Owl.

This is one of six identical carvings on the pedestal of my Grandmother's table, an heirloom that has found it's way into our living room by a rather devious route; but therein lies a story for another occassion. The top is, I believe, chestnut, and this base is probably the same. Although I have known it all my life, I had never noticed these owls before; but then, I have never been groping around on the floor, with a torch, trying to focus a camera on it. Similarly, it was not until I was inspecting the enlarged image that I realised just how dusty it was. I shall be having words with the maid about that.

Grandma was fastidious, as became ladies from her generation; she scrubbed the front doorstep and polished the linoleum flooring everyday and, when she died, you could scrape the wax off the floor with a kitchen knife. She'll be turning over in her grave at all that dust.