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