Keep Them Free

She shivered against the autumn winds as she admired the sight of her son, coming in to view.  Tall, handsome and proud, the image of his father. It wouldn't be long before he would be leaving the family, making his own way in life, looking for a mate and having a family of his own. It would break her heart to lose him but there was already tension between him and his father as the adolescent assertion was happening  in preparation for adulthood. Wanting to be the leader, the head of the household.

She shook her head and stretched, as she looked at him playing with the twins in the autumn sunshine.  He was still young enough to enjoy frolicking with his two sisters. Proud of her beautiful family, making the most of the autumn sunshine before the harshness of winter set in.  She dreaded the winter, food could be scarce in this remote place and they were grateful for the visits from the trucks in the cold winter months.  Kindly people who braved the cold to ensure that they were fed.  There was the nice lady, the one with camera, she took photographs and you could feel the love that she had for their way of life. 

There was a feeling of peace and tranquility in this place, but somehow there was a sense of something foreboding in the air.  The birds has disappeared and the air felt still. She heard the roar, the vibration above and the clatter of the cages descending from the helicopters.  There was panic, Father and sons joined together to protect their families as the nets were cast and families were herded into the cages. 

Her beautiful children must be saved and she urged her son to run for his life with his sisters.  Urged him to take them and protect them. They were fast, they were young, they could escape.

She turned as the net and the ropes came closer. terrified she kicked and screamed.  They had her husband, her soul mate.  He kicked and lashed out, eyes bulging in terror, sweat oozing from every pore in his body.  And then she heard the crack, his head fell to one side, her handsome mate had a broken neck.  His face still, frozen with the fear of his fate.  No longer the strong leader that he had been. 

She screamed in terror, kicked and lashed out to get free, the ropes were around her legs and she collapsed as her broken legs couldn't hold the weight of her body.  She would be euthanised, no use to anyone if she was broken, she closed her eyes and gave in to her fate, only glad that her son and his sisters had managed to avoid the capture.

Imagine if it was your family, your village.  I am Mustang.  Keep me free. 

Wild Garlic, Gunpowder and Buzzards

Wild Garlic, Buzzards and gunpowder.

We were off again on another adventure.  This time avoiding the bank holiday busy places of Bowness and Ambleside, somewhere a little bit peaceful, but not too far from home.

Just by chance we booked it, a quiet site adjacent to the river Kent, in the woods. A haven for bird watchers and walkers.  We arrived early evening and pitched "Little Mo" in a lovely spot surrounded by trees.  The smell of wild garlic was intoxicating and reminded me of our many walks in Westmoreland.  We walked along the river as the sun started to set, a fox crossed our path and disappeared into the woods. We doubled back past the 18th century ruins of the gunpowder works watching the rabbits hopping in and out of the dark grey, ruined buildings, going about their evening activities, in the trees and bushes that had overgrown the wall and pushed through the now non existent roof over time.  Not too aware of Mr Fox's  presence nearby.  I didn't like to think of the mayhem that would happen once the fox decided to hunt for his evening meal, in my pretty world everyone was a friend that night. Owls hooting and screeching, also looking for the nights prey.  The silence of the night, not really silent, rushing water of the river, bats, owls and rustling trees. 

There is something about sleeping in the woods which gives a deep, sense of relaxation. We are early risers, enjoying the morning, but our camping trips lend themselves to a slower pace of life.  The morning sunshine of late spring inspired a walk up to Sizergh Castle and further on to Sizergh Fell, doubling back to the Strickland Arms where we stopped for a well earned rest and refreshment.  We sat outside in the spring sunshine wondering which birds of prey were circling the trees on the edge of the woodland, hunting in the open fields.

Tony said they were buzzards and I doubted him, saying that red kites were the local inhabitants.  Nevertheless they were fascinating to watch, dark against the cloudless blue sky.  

We continued our way back towards Low Wood, calling in at the farm shop, purchasing "interesting" locally made cheese and chilli jam. 

We decided that we loved this place. The quietness, the protection of the trees and the river.  Sometimes still, sometimes rushing. We would be back. Very soon, and we were.

They were buzzards! I checked when we got back, they do live I the area and hunt at the edge of the woods on open land!  Apologies to Tony, you were right. 

Just a Dog being a Dog

You see, have you heard the expression " a mans man" well William was a "dogs dog". He just loved being a dog. Mischievous, and too clever for his own good, William was never an easy dog to have as your best friend.   But, somehow he still made his way into our hearts.  He was a symbol that our relationship was permanent. We got him together, jointly responsible for the cute, tan coloured puppy, with huge brown eyes, velvety ears and soft puppy fur that would develop into the wiry hair of a terrier.  A cross between a border terrier and a patterdale terrier.  Reared of farm stock.  He was never going to settle for being a lap dog. He wanted to chase, dig, chew and bark.  All of those things to be calmed down with training, persuade him to conform, stop being such a handful.  Now, there was a bit of a problem.  William was taken to a dog training school with experienced handlers who advised that he was going to be to difficult to train.  They took him from me for the day, making assumptions I was doing something wrong (even though I have had dogs all my life and never been unable to train them - until now). I collected him in the evening to be told he was totally untrainable and to bring him back when he'd calmed down.  William was expelled from dog school!

He wore us down , chewed two sets of my hearing aids, ate the buttons on my clothes, ate plaster off the walls, could jump the height of a six foot fence to chase a bird or cat or even to remind passer by that he was there.  This was his house and he was going to protect it.  He chased the window cleaner up the road, the postman always got a shock when he jumped on the door as the letters were coming through. He humped the cushions on the settee, ate my makeup, shoes, anything.   Attacked other dogs, got stuck down rabbit holes, could never be let of the lead due to him not ever coming back when called.  We used to hide behind trees and bushes to trick him into searching for us then grab him to put him back on the lead.  If I am honest I would say it was a welcome break when he went into kennels when we went on holiday.  We were exhausted with him and needed the rest. 

Kennels.  There was another tale.  Always willing to take him in. Never going twice to the same oplace. Coincidentally, always fully booked when we tried to book him in a second time.  Except for one, who knew the breed and always told us how much he missed us but seemed to handle his lively personality.  But still we loved him.

There was another side to William.  The dog that walked for miles with us on rambles. The dog that climbed Snowden with us.  Moel Famu, Pendle Hill, Helvelyn, he walked the North West with us.  We travelled to Cornwall, Scotland and Wales to camp and walk.  He was happy just being in our company.   So many lovely times.  Warning us of bad weather ahead when the tornado came when we were on the top of a hill. William could walk 10 miles and still be bouncing off the walls when we got home. He had to be kept away from only the most understanding of visitors.  He wasn't vicious, just too lively to cope with. We had a routine, with guests.  "Sit down and ignore him until he's calm, no matter what he does."  It took some patience from our very understanding visitors. Yet when he was with just us at home, he was calm.  Relaxed in the security of his own home with his pack, without the stress of needing to keep us safe. 

When our grandchildren came along,  initially, having a little look when they were babies then playing fetch with them when they got big enough to throw a ball.  I never had to worry about aggression, only that he might knock them down.   I would never leave any dog alone with a child but in his doggy mind, there were just more of the pack to protect.  He loved a cuddle in the morning, his only calm time when he wasn't sleeping.  

Our friends and people we met, somehow, loved this handsome, lively terrier who  just wanted company. He was part of our gang.  Even though I spent most of my life apologising for him.  It became apparent that his problem was extreme separation anxiety which manifested in his bad behaviour.  He also had a strong protective instinct

 towards us, always battling to be the pack leader.  But we couldn't be with him all of the time.

We got him a friend, a sweet good natured Cairn terrier, a calming influence.  This helped to an extent.  Maybe he would calm down after all.  It never happened, he had a friend to play with but he just couldn't help being a dogs dog.  Penny, the Cairn was the opposite end of the scale behaviourally.  

Then it happened.  Far sooner and quicker than we expected.  At 11 years of age his back legs started to collapse when he got up.  Years of jumping up at the fence, doors, etc.,had taken its toll.  The visit to the vet confirmed what we thought. This was going to get worse. Pain killing injections and anti inflammatory drugs never made any difference. The deterioration was so quick, he was miserable, unable to get off his bed. Scared and vulnerable, it broke my heart to see him this way.  We made the difficult decision to say goodbye to him. He will be in our hearts forever. A large personality leaves a large space when it's gone.  

Goodbye our sweet little naughty William.  Thank you for the good times, our walks are just not the same without you, but your spirit remains with every step we take.  Xxxx

Time to stop and stare, but still it rained

We were trying out the caravan with a trip to Meathop Fell in the Lakes Peninsula.  Only two nights and the weather forecast wasn't good but hey, this is the lakes, it always rains.  We were late arriving (only 15  minutes) but we had missed the turning to the site and had go back.  It's not that straight forward when you are towing a caravan. Luckily we were still allowed on site and we pitched quickly in the dark.

We took the dogs for a walk through the woods, torches in hand, and we could see the Owls flying and hear them hooting in the trees.  So many in one place. There is something about walking in this area in the dark, a sense of peace but awareness of night time activities going on while most of the world sleeps (or is in the pub). 

Next day we checked in properly and I was given a helpful lecture by the site manager explaining that this was a quiet site and they didn't usually allow late comers as it disturbed the other guests.  She suggested that I familiarise myself with caravan club site rules. Lecture over, and then she gave me details of a nice walk to the estuary and some general helpful advice on towing and pitching.  She also told me that they have lots of owls in the area. Barn owls and tawny. 

It rained, and rained, and rained.  Tony and I decided to walk anyway and the rain was starting to go off. We walked through the hamlet of Meathop and along the country lanes.  Fields full of sheep either waiting to deliver their lambs or looking after their new Woolley gambolling babies.  A ram with the curliest horns, another who had a curly coat and looked like a teddy bear.  And still it rained.  We looked for the stone bridge and the footpath to take us to the estuary but we never came across it.  The wind started to get up so we decided to retrace our steps, back along the lane, to Meathop. We saw cyclists racing along the lanes and  I wondered  if they noticed the things that we had along the way. I doubt it and I felt  sad for them. The need for speed, to compete, meant that they missed out on the beautiful scenery, birds and animals.  I bet they didn't notice to door knob on one of the cottages which was a fox , or the cottages that were once part of the Meathorp Hall estate, the curly coated lambs.  The prettiness of it all, even in the wind and rain.

Time to Stop and Stare

 

 

“What is this life if full of care we have no time to stand and stare

No time to stand beneath the boughs and stare as long as sheep or cows

No time to see when woods we pass, where squirrels hide their nuts in grass

No time to see in broad daylight, streams full of stars, like skies at night

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance, and watch her feet, how they can dance

No time to wait til her mouth can, enrich the smile her eyes began

A poor life this is, if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare”

William Henry Davies

At last, a couple of days holiday from work.  Holidays that I haven’t had time to use because it’s been so busy.  Early mornings, late nights.  No time to do anything else.  A treadmill of work, home, eat, bed, work.  A never ending cycle.  I enjoy my job but I was in desperate need of a break.  I was grateful to get off the treadmill, at least for a couple of days.  Time to de-clutter my home and my mind.  Time to reflect, time to write.

I walked with the dogs along Victoria Road, towards the Pinewoods and the Beach.  We saw a squirrel on top of a high wall who looked at us for a few seconds before disappearing up a tree.  Almost as though he had stopped to say “hello”.  A fine looking little chap with deep chestnut colouring and a pure white patch on his chest.  If he had been able to smile I would guess it would be a cheeky one, a grin.  We didn’t go to the beach today or take our usual route along the clover path through the Gypsy Wood but turned left along the squirrel walk.  I don’t usually venture this way as it’s popular with tourists who are hoping to catch a glimpse of the squirrels. It’s too busy most of the time with families, dogs, and it stresses William dog if there are too many other dogs around.  The families that visit are usually disappointed looking for the squirrels as they don’t know where to look and squirrels don’t venture out that much during the noisy times.  The best time to catch them is at dusk or early morning before the busyness of the day.   Not busy today, everyone is in work and the woods are still and quiet.  Just a gentle breeze whistling through the trees accompanied by a few squawks and tweets of the birds.  A few people around but mainly those wanting the fresh air, the stillness and quiet like myself.  A man with a zoom lens camera trying to catch a shot of the wildlife. 

Squirrels galore! Running up and down trees, jumping from branch to branch.  Enjoying the spring sunshine.  The leaves are still not out on the trees so the only camouflage are the pine trees.  If you know where to look they are easy to see.  There is no point looking at the ground, you need to look up into the air, to the tops of the trees, towards the sky to see the most amazing things.  There is an interesting world living right above us.    I saw the Magpies and feared for the squirrels as they chase them.  Blackbirds, crows, wood pigeons, starlings and even tiny little finches.  The birds are migrating back.  Then I remembered that I haven’t heard the geese, they’ve moved on, now that spring is on the doorstep.

We continued through the woods catching sight of rabbits skipping between the trees and shrubs.  No sign of the fox this morning, I wondered if she had any more babies in her Den this year.  They’ll be kept hidden until they are old enough to hunt for themselves.  The spring flowers now out in abundance, daffodils, snowdrops, and narcissus. Fighting their way through the remaining debris, pine cones and leaves that winter had left behind.  No snow this year, I missed walking in the woods in the snow but was grateful for not having to drive to work in it.

We continue through the woods,  out into the clearing and turn right along the path that goes past the asparagus farm and just enjoy wandering along on this beautiful spring morning.  It crossed my mind that I was walking along through the woods and no-one around, but I can honestly say that it is not a place that I have ever felt unsafe.  A man and woman appear coming towards me in the opposite direction.  They have a young dog with them, a Border Terrier Cross like William and we stop and chat for a few minutes talking about the breed and their temperament.  A loving dog, that’s’ wilful, can never be let off the lead, totally untrainable, but loyal and faithful.  So many times I had to dig William out of rabbit holes when he was younger, knee deep in nettles, terrified he would get stuck down a rabbit hole or even worse catch a rabbit.  He can only be lead walked now.  Even more so now that he is getting on in years and his eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Penny is the opposite, never wanders far, a little sweetheart, the only thing she likes to chase is a ball.  William on the other hand is a” little git”, too clever for his own good, but he’s my “little git.”  We carry on along our way, admiring the newly erected wood sculptures and then back down past the front of the asparagus farm towards Larkhill Lane.  An elderly man and lady pass me with arms full of daffodil and I wonder why they have picked them.  They are in full bloom so would be dead in a couple of days if they are in a vase so why not leave them where they are to dance in the breeze and for everyone to enjoy them.  If everyone picked the flowers as they walked along, there would be no flowers and I felt annoyed with them for being so selfish.  Perhaps they had a reason, some tale from the past, where the daffodils were of significance to them, I shouldn’t judge.  Everyone has their own tale.

I wonder about the asparagus farm and think of how it was planted just after the war and has now been rejuvenated to produce high quality asparagus.  Such history in such a small place. Now time to make my way home, feeling rejuvenated and pass the people exercising their dogs on the field.  No such joy of chasing a ball of the leash for William.  Too many rabbits for him to chase here.   We make our way home, tired and happy, refreshed and glad to appreciate this lovely  pre-spring morning.

Black dog or not

Sometimes when you walk through the woods, along the Fisherman's Path,  on the way to the dunes, after crossing the golf course, it feels a little eerie. Early morning or at dusk, the light shining or fading through the trees, the stillness, the birds start to roost or just waking.  Sometimes, you get the feeling of not being alone, but not surprising as it's a popular place to walk.  Also there are many rabbits, squirrels and foxes about.

 It's a different type of feeling, a feeling that there is someone or something there, a shiver running down your spine.  There is a sound of a twig breaking underfoot, footsteps, and William dog gets a little spooked.  Rabbits and squirrels making the most of the peace before or after the usual times for the dog walkers, cyclists and families making their way to the beach.  No one else to be seen.  There are many tales of a large black dog.  Some recount the tale of a dog who was still waiting for his master who never returned from a fishing trip.  Others tell of a huge black dog with demonic red eyes., supposedly to bring misfortune if you see them.  Others relate this to the Viking History, Nordic Invaders who were called "black dogs" by the locals.

These tales weren't at the forefront of my mind when I was driving to work along Timms Lane.  I saw what looked like a strangely larger than usual, Black Labrador towards the top of the road. My first thought was that it was a lost dog and as I got closer, in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

Was it a trick of the early morning light?  I know there is a family with a couple of Newfoundlands nearby, had one escaped and then gone back home? They are not usually dogs that move so quickly or quietly, surely I would have noticed where such a large dog would have gone. The rational part of my brain kicked in, explaining the strange experience.

Or had I encountered the famous ghostly being..........................
(Glad I didn't see it's eyes if it was)!

My New Friend Alex

My New Friend Alex.

Today I met a new friend. His name is Alex. I was taking the train to attend for a minor medical procedure which meant I couldn't drive afterwards. Standing on the station platform I observed a man talking to a woman. He was carrying a sports hold all and a guitar in a well worn guitar bag. The woman hurried along the platform, it appeared that she wanted to get away from him and I noticed that he seemed to have a disability, probably some learning disability.

As the train approached, he turned around to me, grinning, showing his uneven teeth. He was wearing the green fleece jacket uniform worn by the rangers. I smiled at him and said "morning". I boarded the train and went into an empty carriage apart from another person. A man wearing a suit who was more than likely on his way to work.

The man in the green jacket, and the guitar, boarded the train and sat next to me, even though there were many empty seats. I thought to myself "I always attract them".

"Hello, my name is Alex, what's your name?" he said. Speaking quickly and grinning from ear to ear. He spoke so fast as though he couldn't contain his excitement and the words would come out quick enough. "Hello, my name is Audrey" I replied and he shook my hand enthusiastically. I asked him if he played the guitar, and he told me that he had learned to play when he left school, which was for people with learning disabilities. He told me he could play three Everley Brothers songs and asked if I knew how to play the guitar. I told him that I did try to learn but it hurt my fingers and I could play the piano. When I told him I wasn't that good and he could probably play guitar far better than I could play piano, he laughed and grinned from ear to ear. The conversation continued. He was working as a volunteer for the National Trust with the Rangers, telling me he worked in the Forest and he would give the other workers a song after lunch. I would imagine that Alex would be a joy to have around the workplace. He was so enthusiastic about going to work. He oozed happiness.

We chatted for only about 10 minutes as he needed to get off the train at the next stop. He shook my hand to say goodbye and kissed me on each hand before leaving the train, unable to hide his happiness at meeting a new friend and having the opportunity to go to work.

Tears pricked my eyes, observing how the simple things had made him so happy and also at my own guilt for my feelings of fear. If only everyone viewed the world as Alex does. No barriers, he had not judged me as I had judged him. To see the person, the ability and not the disability.