Way out West (incorporating Way up North)

The coos are oot...

About four miles from my shepherds hut, just as you get to the bucket mill, there's a field of adventurous cows. When I first moved to the forest I encountered a selection of the beasties, having made a bid for freedom they were standing around, looking, if possible, a little sheepish. I thought little of it, the escapees were rounded up and returned to their field.

This time of the year the rut is on, and the red deer stags can be heard bellowing incoherently around the hill and it becomes necessary to drive with care as the road as last years deer suddenly discover they're in the way.

This year, the cows, energised by all this testosterone, took full advantage of an open gate, and made a thorough bid for freedom, it was chaos, hieland coos ambling in all directions. Eventually the big round up happened, and calm was restored again. So, I was less than pleased, the other night in the teaming rain, to turn a corner, and find myself facing a pair of gently swaying ungulate buttocks. La toute ensemble was steaming gently, and as I looked along the track, I could see the whole herd, on a primeval mission of some kind. After a little persuasion they left the road, and I was able to make my way home. Where they've gone I can't tell, up into the hills in search of the noisy boys I imagine, but the field is empty, and fifty cows and calves have vanished.

It's definitely autumn now, I was in the car park just now, and heard the first skeins of geese coming over.

posted by Lampy @ 10/19/2012 06:55:00 pm 0 comments

Edgelands

I'm on the move again, not without a certain trepidation, there is a bit of a literal tendency up here when naming a property. Consequently, my proposed move from Burnfoot to Blackhole gives me a little concern. Although I am only moving about five miles, I have gone across the boundary of two OS maps, but "oh sophonisba", what a reward; my new gaff is only an hours walk from the telephone exchange, so there is a possibility of the Internet, and, as the pub is next to the local exchange, a pint with a healthy walk attached.

For the moment I'll overlook the possibility that moving to a home called Blackhole may lead to my vanishing, enough people seem to be of the opinion that moving to Scotland is not so different.

The new gaff is on one side of a farmyard, chickens, ducks and cats wander freely, and on my first visit a little row of mottled cats were waiting on the kitchen windowsill. It's cupboard love, according to the farmers wife, who is responsible for the menagerie. I dare say it'll be odd not to be so isolated, although you would have to know that the house is there before you find it. Rather confusingly, the road appears to be blocked by a large granite barn, go the wrong way and you end up in a yard full of scrap metal.

posted by Lampy @ 10/07/2012 01:01:00 pm 0 comments