Moss

Thank you so much everyone for your lovely comments about those few seconds of magic in my last post - it seems the hare holds a special place for a lot of folk.

On the same walk I took many other photos, some to capture the moment, some to take for blogging and most of them .... of Moss.

So, I thought I would share a few (yes just a few) of our dilly dog enjoying her walk.

She adores Himself, often trailing around after him with a stick or a ball and asking him to throw it for her. Yes, before anyone says - dogs should not carry sticks, tell that to Moss who collects sticks with the fervour of a trainspotter collecting train details or a twitcher trying to photograph the latest bird.

She has this 'trade up and swap' system with sticks. She'll find one almost as soon as we start walking, she'll carry it, dropping it at our feet, retrieving it almost immediately and carry it a bit further.... until she finds a 'better' stick or a 'bigger' stick and then she swaps. This will continue for most of the walk - even on this hot 10 miler walk - many a stick joined us on those dusty miles.

The only thing better than a stick .... water. Any river, stream, trough, pond, bath, puddle or the sea - and the combination of sticks in water - happy happy dog! 

With her background as a trained sheep dog we can instruct her by pointing or waving, which direction to go, she will check once or twice by looking over her shoulder and we confirm by repeating the action and she will then shoot on ahead.

If she thinks we are being too slow, she returns to check we are still following, then turns back setting out front as our own personal scouting party :) 

Our walks are brilliant, I love being out and finding new to me paths, new vistas and new stories, but they are all the better, all the richer and happier - thanks to this dilly dog.

And, we know if it has been a good one, when Moss once back home or back at the van, she scoffs her dinner and flops over on her side and has a deep and rejuvenating nap - ready for the next adventure!

Hope your week is as happy as our silly dilly dog during a walk filled with rivers and sticks (lots of sticks) xxx

One of those moments

Today Himself and I wistfully acknowledged the swifts have gone.

We'd seperately been keeping a half cocked ear for them for the last few days and today, we reluctantly agreed... yes, they have left.

The swallows are still about, flitting around, getting their maps and travel plans ready and it wont be long before they all start congregating on 'phone lines and organising their day of departure.

I miss the screaming parties of swifts as they cut through the sky above our heads at phenomenal speeds.  These birds are, to me the spirit of summer. When they go, summer goes too.

Another animal that has a hold over me is the wild brown hare. Secretive and wary, it is a magical moment when you come across, however fleeting, a hare quietly getting on with it's own life.

Last week, during a rather long and very warm walk, (over ten miles in the end) we came across this special moment. 

To be honest, I was tired, very footsore, limping slightly as my knee although as good as it will ever be, gets tired too. Our conversation had dried up as had our water and tea in the flask, it was now just the final push to get home.

And, as we trudged our way up a dusty farm track, I was halted by this site - we stopped immediately, hissed at Moss to lie down and ..... apart from my camera coming up slowly, we stood stock still.

I could barely breath, especially as the hare after what felt like an age of not moving, quietly began to lope towards us. Unhurried, unworried and unaware.

Then, after the hare had come delightfully close, it must have spotted us, and calmly sprang up on to the banking into the field and vanished.

Wow.

We stood for a moment, stunned by this precious moment. Then continued with our walk, only this time we had a bit more oomph in our step and our conversation has returned and was filled with what we had just seen.

Now, as I type this, sitting at home, I can still feel the heat of that day, taste the dust and smell the ripening grain crops in the fields and the hot pine tree resin scents that surrounded us.

Magic!

Do dogs dream in wolf?

There is something primeval, satisfyingly delicious watching the sun go down after a warm and sultry day. To feel the heat from the sinking sun, still warm enough to leave a fieriness glow on my face.

Then as the colours soften and the air cools, a light and sweetly scented breeze drifts lifting tendrils of hair tickling my nose. Moss feels the change too. While the sun is high, she explores, sniffing invisible stories, following secret smells, then as the sky darkens, she becomes still, more alert and watchful. Her already intense eyes become even more so - her ears more erect and she scans the horizon acutely. She lies near my feet and appears to change from relaxed 'on-holiday-dog' to heightened vigilant sentinel.

I find that at dusk the air changes - in scent, in taste and in temperature - and I, a fairly simple human can feel this shift reasonably easily. For a dog with a gazillion times better sensory system and a snoot long and sensitive - this change must be loud and clear and harken back to primitive times.

A time when dogs were wolves. Does Moss dream in wolf? Or does she dream of chasing balls in to the sea and chomping on bone shaped biscuits.....

what comes after a Friday?

Saturday of course

Saturday was a day of three parts.

Part 1 

A warm day, warm, warm start. We had late breakfast on a hill high above the sea. But before we could go down to the water's edge, we had a hill to climb. Well, a hill with several mini hills atop. The air felt thick and dry, Moss went from boggy patch to boggy patch, wallowing happily. By the time we got to the top I was very glad I had my hat and a large bottle of cold water - we managed to find a much needed breeze while we sat amongst the rocky outcrop. We scanned the horizon with my spotting-scope. It was lovely watching distance views, small people and even small dogs on the beach, tractors working their fields, motorbikes trundling along narrow lanes, small boats slicing through the water, trains sliding through the countryside.  Our return back to Zeb was a lot easier, not only was it DOWNwards but it was into the breeze - bliss.

The sea was calling and I was not about to ignore her dulcet tones.

 

Part 2 

We pulled up alongside the beach - a rubbly pebbly scrubby sort of precious strip of land between a carpark and the sea. The air was salty and fresh beneath the jewel-blue sky. The sea pushed out lazy rolls of small waves and cheerfully growing between the pebbles were the smiliest of faces I have seen in a long time.

Moss turned into a selkie within seconds of running into the salty water. I have never seen a dog dive under water and surf instinctively as she did. We worked our way along the water, my eyes just ate the view, skimming over the stones, soaring over towards the horizon, following a skane of gulls flying through the view ... each one a panacea for my soul. 

Part 3

We lingered, the tide slipped out and the pebbles now fringed a wide sand beach strewn with pools of mirror like puddles. The sky turned from a clear blue to a rich apricot splashed with purple clouds making for a spectacular light show.  I made us something to eat and we sat and watched the sun slowing slip down behind the horizon. We dried Moss, wrapped her in a fresh towel, then lifted a tired dog onto her bed in the cab of the van. Packing completed, everything stowed away securely; we looked at the now dark sky, the sun fully gone - time to go home. 

Zeb - thank you for a lovely break - having you has opened our small world into one of many possibilities and advantures. You have given us the freedom to quietly escape and still maintain the pandemic restrictions and you have made a dog very very very happy.

Until next time xxxxx