Showing posts with label walks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label walks. Show all posts

Monday, April 28, 2008

Building Bridges


I'm not saying it's rickety and unsafe to cross, but the dog did opt to fling himself across the stream and take his chances scrabbling up the bank, rather than walk the plank.

And they often know about these things.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Lambing

I walk with Z every day. At the moment it is particularly beneficial as I am suffering from a protracted bout of sciatica and the best thing to do is keep active. The only problem is I am not overly good at bending at the moment, or climbing over fences to rescue stray lambs.

The lamb was running up and down the fence, bleating piteously, unable to get back into the field where its mother was unconcernedly munching grass.

"You climb over," I said to my daughter, who fortuitously happened to be with me, "and I'll stay here and hold the dog. Grab the lamb, and just chuck it over the fence."

Could there be a simpler plan?

Or a harder one to actualise?

Mind you, I did get a lot of amusement from watching my daughter chasing the lamb up and down the fenceline. She even caught it at one point but it wriggled so violently she had to let it go again. "There's no way I'm going to get it over the fence," she panted.

I took my phone from my pocket and dialled.

"Hello? Lovely Warden? Are you nearby?"

Lovely Warden is good at chasing sheep. He is speedy and strong. If there were a One Man and His Lovely Warden competition, he'd be a contender.

"No worries," he assured me, "I'll be there shortly."

And he was. He stepped into the arena and eyed his target. It was all over in a blur of wool and tanned legs.

Lovely Warden 1, Lost Lamb 0

I might let the cows out on my next walk, just to see how he does with larger prey.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Explorers

"Are the cows coming?"

I was half way over the ricketty gate, in a vulnerable position.

"No, they're still the other side of the hill."

"OK. Well, if they do come, and if that one with the horns is a bull, just save yourself. You're small and quick. I will distract them by flailing my arms about and getting trampled."

McColleague laughed, her eyes scanning the horizon as she calculated the sprinting distance between us and the next gate.

"I reckon we should be all right," she asserted.

McColleague and I had been on quite an adventure, exploring the estate on foot for the last four hours, through fields, woods, streams and parkland.

We found a little shelter in the woods.



It is where the community service kids have their base camp, brewing up tea over the fire when they are not clearing away fallen trees and maintaining the footpaths.

I particularly liked their sign over the door.



I am tempted to make it my own office.

We left the shelter behind us and moved on. We had a moment of indecision when faced with a herd of cows on the horizon. Should we walk through them, or go round on the other side of the hedge? We opted for the latter. As we walked up the hill we could see the cows on the other side of the hedge. They were only youngsters, half grown. We felt somewhat foolish. Turns out they weren't far away, they were just small.

We did a lot of clambering over stiles and fences. Eventually I managed to hurt myself on some barbed wire. "Watch out for the barbed wire," I said, giving my wound a lick.

"Ow!"

I was too late. I untangled McColleague and compared injuries. Mine was worse.


OK, so it was just a scratch. McColleague swallowed a fly too. It was a survival type exercise, all right.

Home was in sight when we encountered the final field, the cattle thundering toward us, eager to see what the two humans were up to on the other side of the fence. "I think there is a bull in this field," I said. "That one's got horns, anyway."

We decided to try to find another way past, and stood for some time peering over the ricketty gate at the expanse of apparently cow-free field before us. "I think we'll definitely be all right, climbing over this," I stated, confidently.

And, as it turns out, we were, despite the fact the electric fence keeping them from us just stopped halfway along. I decided not to draw attention to that fact and just walked a little faster. "I really need some tea," I said. "Come on.