Out of season

It was a bit warm today even in the Peak District. I had a meeting in Ripley first thing, so after an early morning walk around the fields with Lilly, I set off. It was hot in the car. No air conditioning in my elderly Toyota, and though the engine seems sound still, some of the frivolous things like the brakes, gearbox and what ever controls the flow of hot and cold air are showing signs of wear and tear. As I turned off the Ashbourne Road and headed for Cromford (via Gellia) I joined a queue of vehicles, moving fairly slowly (between 30 and 40mph). What was slowing us down I mused? A caravan, a tractor? An elderly person, a learner driver? No none of these. As I progressed slowly up the queue I was somewhat surprised to see a Derbyshire Dales gritter equipped with snow plough on the front and flashing lights, ambling along the highway. Why? Practise? Whimsy? Probably sheer bloody mindedness, unless of course it is the ghostly gritter that disappeared in the February snowstorms and is now doomed to wander the A and B roads of the Peak District, pointlessly holding up the traffic and irritating people.

Early morning walk

The last of the early morning clouds disappeared. It was getting warmer, and the insects hummed and buzzed lazily in the heather. Down in the valley I could hear the stream crashing against the rocks as it flowed to the reservoir. Lilly trotted ahead of me, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. She stopped to drink from a murky stagnant pool but I called her off and reached into my bag, found the water bottle and let her drink from that. Putting the bottle back I wiped my brow. I hadn't needed the fleece after all. We plodded on, the ground oozed water from the recent rains and it was hard to stay on the path. There was a squelching sound and Lilly sank up to her front shoulders in mud. She looked quizzically at me before pulling herself out, and trotting on, snapping at a passing butterfly. In the distance I could see another dog walker. He had his hands full though. Four old English sheepdogs, three on leads and one wandering off the track and disturbing the curlews. We stopped to chat but the dogs began to bark and growl and as he said, “their fine as long as I don't meet any other dogs!”, I decided that it was better to move off and so we did. As we approached the bridge that we BW's have renamed Picnic Bridge, for obvious reasons, Lilly suddenly tensed and began snuffling in the long grass of the bank. She emerged with something in her mouth. It was a pheasant chick. Sadly it was dead, and fearing that Lilly might have been responsible. I dragged her away. It was a beautifully marked little thing. I wondered what it was doing there on its own. I looked further down the bank and a slight movement revealed a female pheasant, so I guess there were more chicks about. Time to move on. By the bridge I let Lilly cool off and drink in the stream. I sat on the bank, feeling the sun on my face and listening to the bird song. It was good to be out.

Owls, Curlews and Things

The fat drops of rain started to fall as we reached the midway point of the walk. So of course we were furthest from the car, and the dry. Lilly seemed unconcerned about the rain, I briefly regretted leaving my cagoule in the car, but it was not that bad really and looking up at the sky I could see the grey giving away to the white fluffy and blue, so the shower was not going to last long. The short eared owl that had appeared almost as soon as we set off, appeared again, silent, skimming the heather, hugging the contours of the hillside, seeking the slightest movement that would betray a meal for her young. Lilly barked at her and strained at the lead to give chase. I quietened her with a fishy treat, and losing interest in the owl she became absorbed in something rustling in the long grasses and snuffling and sniffing made little leaps and pounces into the vegetation. As the rain eased off, the curlews began to shadow us as we moved down into Wildmoorstone. They flew in wide circles, landing twenty metres away to call and cry, before taking off again and swooping down towards us landed on the other side. They kept this up for five minutes. They were protecting their young of course. Last summer I watched them escort a buzzard from the area, and they will mob a heron if it gets to close. Once they were sure that Lilly and I posed no threat, they left us, gliding further down the valley to feed in the marshy ground near the stream. As we headed up the steep path that leads back onto the disused railway track, the sun came out. I stopped briefly to stand and stare at the view, and felt happy and briefly at peace.

Life goes on

Things have been a little bit hectic at Birdwatcher Towers this past few weeks. Work for me has been hectic and at times quite difficult. It has had me lying awake in the early hours of the morning, with feelings of helplessness that even Radio 7 cannot reach. But of course we have to go on. The mortgage must be paid, the fledglings fed, Mrs BW supplied with finest quality muesli and of course Lilly supplied with the best dog food that money can buy. The Weasel is coming to the end of her GCSE's. Whilst friends report that frantic revising late into the evening, and their young people white and pale from lack of sleep and worry, the Weasel seems to have taken the whole thing as a mere minor irritation, involving only very minor adjustments to her burgeoning social life. It seems as if more time and effort has gone into the planning of the end of school prom than into revising for the exams. She now has one final exam next week. Religious Education part 2 apparently. So effectively she has finished. We have the results to look forward to sometime in the middle of August, but with a bit of luck we shall be in Scotland, miles from any mobile phone signal and where if you mention broadband it is assumed that you are thinking of out sized pieces of jewellery. Luckily for my sanity I have managed to get to the Goyt most days with Lilly. The curlews are busy with their young and there are loads of lapwings this year. Yesterday we surprised a couple of hares on the old railway track and Lilly thought about giving chase but realised that the extending lead would rather cramp her style so she barked at them as they moved off into the long grasses. The weather has for once been kind, so everywhere is green and all the flowers seem to be thriving. Mrs BW is happy at any rate. And so life goes on and we are almost half way through yet another year.

Lilly in Full Flight

Took this just over a week ago. She had been in the water and was racing around with a stick. The Munch was chasing her but of course he did not catch her, at least ways until she wanted to be caught. She likes the water and will spend as much time as possible paddling, but not swimming yet.

I like the way the water falling from her body and the grass seem to merge.