Nature (writing) Friday - AN OUTRAGE!

Here's another dual purpose Nature Friday and Final Friday Feature post

Can you believe it? Despite encouragement from Gail's tutor to include me, Nobby, in as many stories as she likes, you'll never guess what my owner went and did this week on her Nature Writing course...

The theme was 'Facts are your Friend'. 

In response to the task of writing a 350 word vignette about a something she sees in nature on a regular basis, enhanced by background reading on the topic, Gail submitted a piece titled 'Granite', in which I do not feature AT ALL!

I post it here only to demonstrate how boring Gail's 'Nobby-free' writing can be*.

PS from Gail: I'm afraid there is a grain of truth to Nobby's assertion that, when he is not included, I struggle a bit to keep things interesting. But then, my intention in signing up for the course was to stray out of my dog blogging comfort zone.

Granite

As the first storm of the winter hurtles against my bedroom window, I’m woken early. Listening to the gale ripping branches off the trees outside, I feel reassured that my house, like so many in my adoptive city of Aberdeen, is built of good, solid granite blocks. 

In an hour or so, the morning dog walk round Duthie Park will take me past a patch of grass where half a dozen offcuts of quarried granite are scattered about, each labelled according to the location from where it was hewn.

Corrennie, Kemnay, Rubislaw, Sclattie, Clinterty, Peterhead.  

Granites are composed of a crystalline matrix, the main constituent minerals being quartz, feldspar and mica. If I look carefully at the rocks in the park I note, beyond the obvious differences in hue, distinct variations in granularity, colour contrast and texture. They have in common a hardness and resistance to wear. Unlike the soft southerner’s sandstone widely used in the Central Belt, this rock is not for crumbling.

The granite of the Cairngorm plateau, described by Aberdonian writer Nan Shepherd as “defiant against frost and the old grinding of ice”, is a close relative of the quarried stones in the park. 

Still in bed, hoolie still blowing, I contemplate the various ages of my house.

Rubislaw quarry, sometimes (wrongly) described as the biggest man-made hole in Europe, supplied the principal construction material for much of the city of Aberdeen, including my early Edwardian era home. Modern dating techniques estimate the granite to have been emplaced during the Ordovician, at a time when trilobites still swam the oceans and dinosaurs were but a distant gleam in evolution’s eye. 

The chemistry of the magma, its depth of burial and rate of cooling determined the precise appearance of these granites. The rocks quarried in Peterhead, thirty miles north of Aberdeen, are a gay rosy-red, the colour imparted by iron-rich feldspars. The Rubislaw granite is more sombre. Aberdeen tourist blurb likes to emphasise the micas sparkling in the sunlight but the point is lost when the city is shrouded in haar. Forget Nan Shepherd. As winter trudges on, the literary reference that comes to mind will be ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’.

Cosy under my duvet, there’s something comforting about being further protected by walls built from a material unchanged for the best part of 470 million years.  

Stalemate

When Nobby and Agatha meet in the grounds of Crathes Castle on Sunday...

Dodging the showers

Suddenly it's all autumnal, blustery and cool.  Rain is threatened. The weatherman calls the conditions "unstable" and tells us that a depression is moving across the country, slowly losing its identity*...

I am taken for a walk up and around Millstone Hill, long a favourite. 

I pose nicely on the 'pose nicely please' stone, allowing Gail a convenient pause to catch her breath half way up the ascent.

Higher up, I hear a rustle in the heather, and hurtle off to investigate. 

But I am Nice Nobby these days (mostly, give or take the occasional dead snail incident) so I rush back when Gail calls, and claim my treat. 

The panoramic view from the summit allows us a preview of showers heading our way. 

The wind has lifted my ear flaps and it's time to hasten down. 

There's a brief blue sky interlude before we get back to the car, but I sniff the air and sense more change on the way. 

*Gail wonders if this a subtle commentary on the broader state of the UK...

Nature (writing) Friday report: It's all about ME!

Well first off, here's a slightly blurry seasonal photo of me, standing in a field just on the edge of Aberdeen. This is for those of you who (understandably) really aren't that interested in following Gail's progress on her online 'Nature Writing' course.

I note, however, that a few commenters last week did enquire about how Gail's story about me peeing on a tree trunk was received. 

It seems that the students are not awarded grades on this course, but the tutor does provide plenty of insightful feedback. And guess what he said last week? He absolutely loved all the bits about ME, and thought Gail's piece would have been even better if there has been more about my peeing habits, and less about the city council (I'm paraphrasing here). I'm liking this tutor already! 

For this week's task, Gail had to write 500 words about some object that was or had once been alive, focusing on the senses other than sight, i.e. sound, smell, touch and, if appropriate, taste. I'm delighted to report that, once again, I feature front and centre in this true story.

Worse than 'Eau de Rotting Fish'

It was the crackling sound that caught my attention, just as I passed the door of the study. My dog Nobby likes to relax in there, curled up on the seat of an ancient armchair. Nobby is a serial chewer of all kinds of objects, animal, vegetable and mineral, but this noise was unfamiliar, the notes higher and thinner than when he’s attacking his current favourite, the deer antler I picked up in the hills a short while back. What on earth had he found now? Was it a pen or biro perhaps? I thought I’d managed to hide all those. At least it didn’t sound like the shattering of expensive varifocals, this time.

Then I entered the room and the smell hit.

Dogs born with a hunting instinct and an overdose of curiosity – and mischief – will present their owners with a wide range of ‘challenges’ to the olfactory senses. We will be familiar with the outcome of our beloved pup’s enthusiastic rolls in fox poo or a decomposing fish carcass (the male canine equivalent of the teenager drenching himself in Brut at a 1970s disco). Our noses will also recognise the unfortunate odours associated with tummy upsets caused by our Best Friend’s less discriminating food choices.

Today’s smell carried notes of all the above, amplified with a uniquely revolting overlay of pungent sweetness. With trepidation, I approached closer to investigate.

Part clamped between Nobby’s still enthusiastically chomping jaws, part smeared on the armchair, was a dark mass of semi-congealed slime. Mixed in with this, jagged fragments of gastropod shell, the coiled pattern still discernible. Texture-wise, think raw egg that didn’t survive the trip home from the supermarket. But texture was not the main issue here…

Horrified, I cried “leave it Nobby!” To my surprise, he released his prize catch. I fetched a disposable nitrile glove from my Covid-era supply and, suppressing a strong gag reflex, I scraped the fetid remains of what was once a garden snail (exact species indeterminate) off the cushion of the favourite old recliner.

How was it that this organism smelled so utterly horrid? To me if not to my pet, whose tastes are clearly atrocious. The snails I find alive and well in my overgrown back garden do not give off a unpleasant odour; neither do the faded empty shells of those long deceased. But a Google search reveals an abundance of eloquent and colourful accounts describing the dreadful stench emitted by dead snails. A friend later tells me that these creatures are known to secrete a toxic substance when scared, although she is not sure about any associated aroma. Well, if Nobby’s ‘treat’ was still alive when he first set teeth in it, I’m afraid it isn’t now. I only hope it has done him no harm.

I have a trip to Paris scheduled for early December. I shall not be tempted to choose ‘escargot’ from a restaurant menu.

Happy Nature Friday, and thanks once again to our LLB Gang friends for hosting this, always our favourite blog hop. 

Designated Dog Day

 Gail says that Tuesday is now 'Designated Dog Day'.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? That surely every day in the Gail and Nobby household should be Designated Dog Day?

Well it seems it's just Tuesdays.

First off, of course, I get my morning walk in Duthie Park. But you know all about that.

Then something new. Our neighbour Jim is not very well, and Angus, Jim's handsome black labrador, needs more exercise. So Gail has offered to take Angus out for a good leg stretch on Tuesday afternoons.

I have high hopes that eventually I might be allowed to join Gail and Angus on these outings, but based on this week's evidence, it is perhaps better that Gail gets used to walking a lively plus 40 kg dog by herself to start with.

From my perch on the sofa in our bay window, I was able to observe Angus exiting our neighbour's front gate and heading down the street at pace, thus unbalancing Gail so she toppled over and let go of the lead. Angus, being a Good Boy, calmly waited for her to pick herself up and they proceeded on their walk, Gail this time remembering to hold on tight and engage her core muscles in an effort to stay upright while Angus dragged her off in the direction of the riverside path.

The photo of Angus, below, was taken later, by which time Gail claims she had somewhat regained control of the situation. Apparently, she attributes her earlier fall to momentarily forgetting she was not walking a 9 kg dog who does not generally pull on his lead these days. (That would be me.)

The third and final component of Designated Dog Day is my weekly training session at Deeside Dog Agility Club. This week it was raining so we were indoors in the barn. To be honest, this is not so much fun as being out in the open - less scope for haring across the field and eliciting cries of "LOOSE DOG!" 

Gail says, with the onset of dark evenings and colder weather, we will likely now be inside for agility until the spring so I'd better get used to it! 

Such a sad sight

It was an upsetting end to a walk which started so well.

I always look forward to visiting the Forvie Nature Reserve. We don't go there in summer 'cos of some silly idea that I might disturb the ground nesting birds. But now the fledglings have all fledged, we're back again and I should be free to roam.

The best bit is of course the beach. A mile and a half of pristine sands. The perfect playground for a wire-haired fox terrier. I couldn't wait to get there.

We've reached the sand dunes. Not far now!

But what's this? Gail is saying I need to be on my lead? But Gail, we're almost at the beach! 

And then I get it (sort of). 

Not just one dead guillemot but literally hundreds, scattered around the high tide line in varying states of decomposition. Gail tells me these birds are almost certainly victims of avian 'flu. As the tide is in, they are hard to avoid. We see at least one bird carcass every five meters, all the way up the beach. Gail is looking upset, tearful even. I am subdued, and not only because of the lead thing.

PS from Gail: I've been reading about the devastating effects of avian 'flu in the UK all year and we've seen several victims on previous walks. But I think it was the conflation in my mind of so many dead and decomposing guillemots here, with this week's news reports of thousands of drowned humans washing up on shore in Libya following the catastrophic collapse of two dams, that so disturbed and overwhelmed me on Saturday afternoon.

Nature (writing) Friday

Well I am mightily relieved to report that Gail did not neglect to feature me in the piece she was required to submit for her nature writing course this week. 

It seems the task set was for her to step outside the front door and conjure up 500 words out of some aspect of nature she noticed right there and then. 

This is the result. It remains to be seen whether her course tutor is impressed by a text in which dog pee features so prominently...

Happy Nature Friday! 

Trunk Call

I never paid much attention to the base of tree trunks until I acquired a dog. 

Sycamore, cherry, whitebeam, birch and rowan trees, but mostly sycamore, line the streets of my inner city residential neighbourhood. Out early in the morning for the daily walk to the park, the chunky trunk of the sycamore beside my front gate is fox terrier Nobby’s first port of call. A couple of sniffs then he lifts his leg with what I, fond owner, see as balletic grace, and adds his pee-mail to the accumulation of messages already left on the tree by our local canine population. 

I once read a ‘scientific’ study purporting to demonstrate that the smaller the male dog, the higher he lifts his leg, so as to leave his mark as far up the tree or wall as possible and thus give the impression of larger size. ‘Small man’ syndrome is apparently not confined to the human species.  And yes, I did once, at some risk to my reputation for (I hope) sanity, follow up with a tape measure to see how high Nobby managed. 

At the top of the dog pee range the sycamore bark comprises irregular, greyish oblong scales. Crocodile skin comes to mind. Lower down, knobbly roots extend uncertainly like arthritic fingers, visible for a short distance before disappearing beneath the paving slabs.  I wonder what happens next. Are these particular tree roots connected to others in the street via a fine mesh of mycorrhizal fungi as might be the case in long established woodland? Perhaps my dog is contributing nutrients to an urban version of a Wood Wide Web? This seems far-fetched. The local tree-related communication network is probably, I’m afraid, limited to Nobby and his urinating pals. 

Throughout the year, street-wise weeds squeeze through the thin soil between tree and tarmac. Dandelion, chickweed, sow thistle, bittercress, groundsel - all doughty survivors of the city council’s annual bouts of chemical warfare. This mini-ecosystem is home to a diversity of dog-attracting aromas. 

Thus Nobby exhibits a clear preference for sidling up to trees rather than our street’s slender, bland lampposts for his bladder emptying business. For humans the presence of trees in the street presents a more complicated balance of pros and cons. On the one hand they signal a ‘des-res’ neighbourhood as well as providing shade in summer, a home for birdlife and of course, a small contribution to the net-zero target. I approve of the trees. But older pedestrians will fear tripping over the root-lifted paving stones. Home and car owners might remember windows and roofs damaged and vehicles crushed by trees toppled in recent storms. The near bankrupt local council will worry about increases in road maintenance costs. The intersection of nature and the city is not a conflict-free zone. 

This dog owner finds much indeed to ponder as she contemplates the base of an urban tree trunk. But Nobby is of a less philosophical mindset. He has now lost interest in this sycamore and is tugging on his lead. The park beckons. 

A picture

As mentioned in last Friday's post, Gail is has signed up for a short on-line nature writing course this autumn. I hope she does not forget that a picture paints a thousand words...

A walk in 'Auld Reekie' and some quiz answers

So Gail and I said goodbye to the quiet fishing town of Eyemouth on Friday morning and took a final quick peek at fog-bound Coldingham Bay before heading north.  No swimming for Gail this time, but several other middle aged ladies were cavorting in the waves with great apparent enjoyment.

Next stop was Edinburgh to meet up with friends Françoise and John for a gentle stroll up Blackfold Hill.  Gosh, doesn't Auld Reekie look dry at the moment?

And I was hot and thirsty. 

We were home in Aberdeen by evening and, wow, I must say Gail and I were most impressed by the response to our Nature Friday quiz! We had great fun reading all your answers. 

Everyone did brilliantly, of course, but that was to be expected as we know our readers are super smart and knowledgable. 

So gold stars to all who entered the quiz. Below, a few comments on the answers.

#1 Yes it was of course doggy paddle.

#2 Most of you already knew that the adder is a venomous snake. Extra fun fact - it's only poisonous one we have in the UK.

#3 We're pleased to note that all our readers are aware of the dangers of straying too near the edge of steep cliffs.

#4 Several good guesses here, but Gail thinks Rosy of the LLB Gang was most likely correct in suggesting I'd detected the presence of a vole

#5 You all seemed to struggle with this question. Perhaps the lack of Nature Friday relevance put you off! The correct answer is 'Biscoff'. Well done Dalton and Benji for coming close with Biscotti.

#6 Yes it was a rat. Full marks to YAM-aunty for scientific rigour in giving the species name Rattus rattus. 

#7 Perhaps no surprise that our friends Millie and Walter and their super-observant bird-watcher Mom did best with this question, spotting the gulls on the rooftops as well as the more obvious ones in the foreground, 

#8 Several creative answers here. We like Cecilia's suggestion that the rat disguised himself as a Black Sheep, and Rosy's idea that what we are seeing in this picture is a Black Sheep convention. And yes Ruby, it will indeed always be the Black Sheep of the family who is made to clear up after Christmas dinner...

Nature Friday Quiz!

Greetings one and all from sunny Eyemouth, just north of the England/Scotland border, where Gail and I have been enjoying a few days out and about walking in the (mostly) sunny weather with our dear friend Janet. 

Today, I have a special treat for you, a quiz for the LLB Gang's Nature Friday blog hop. It's based on my experiences this week. I hope you will forgive a little latitude in what constitutes a nature-relevant quiz topic. Just eight questions to exercise your brains. Best of luck!

Let's start with some easy ones.

1. Which swimming stroke might I be using if I go out of my depth in this stream near Whiteadder reservoir?

2. Why would I need to be careful and alert to the presence of adders? 

3. Is there a good reason why Gail is holding my lead firmly just here?

A little harder now. 

4. What might I have spotted in the grass while Gail was distracted taking pictures of the cliff scenery just south of Eyemouth? 

5. Which flavour of ice cream did Gail choose from Giacompazzi's Ice Cream Parlour by the harbour in Eyemouth.

6. What species is this two dimensional creature that Gail didn't allow me to pick up and carry home...?

Now, to test your powers of observation...

7. How many gulls can you spot in the picture below? (You can biggify this image if you want.)

And a final puzzler...

8. How do you tell which one is the black sheep of the family?

P.S. Gail wants you to know that she has succumbed to the annual September 'back to school' urge and has signed up for an 8 week online course titled 'An introduction to non-fiction nature writing', run by the University of Cambridge Institute of Continuing Education's Centre for Creative Writing. It started this week. I wonder if she will learn any stuff that might filter through to my blog...

 

We lucked out!

Could it be nicer weather for us to enjoy a few days walking in the Scottish Borders with our friend Janet?

It could not, and here's the proof from yesterday.

Looking south from St Abbs Head

St Abbs Head lighthouse 

Cliffs eastwards from St Abbs head - folded Devonian sandstones 

Disappointingly, I do not have a picture of Gail swimming in the North Sea at Coldingham Bay, a pretty sandy beach just near where we walked.

Hmmm. The NORTH Sea? At COLDingham Bay?

She said it was splendid but I have my doubts...

Weekend victory

I think I made it quite clear on Saturday evening that I didn't approve of my owner spending all weekend reading a book about horrid Mr Putin.

Thankfully it seems Gail got the message and on Sunday afternoon she took me for a lovely walk through the trees and heather up Millstone Hill. 

The temperature was 26ºC, which in Scotland counts as scorching - see my tongue hanging out in the picture above. So obviously I needed to find a nice muddy ditch to cool off in.

Is there a problem?

Harnessing the Power of Nature

It will come as no surprise to anyone who has braved the elements here in Scotland, attempting to stay upright on a mountain top or playing on the beach while being buffeted by a gale blowing in from the North Sea, that this country is said to have "the best wind resource in Europe". 

To illustrate, see here my predecessor Bouncing Bertie, demonstrating how to stand firm on a typically blustery hillside.

Although my owner spent much of her working career looking for oil and gas, she well understands, like most earth scientists, that using renewable sources to generate power is the way forward for, oh so many reasons. In some parts of the world that means solar power, but in a country with only a few hours per day of weak sunlight in the depths of winter, we naturally look to our wind. 

So Gail and I were pleased to see that Aberdeen's new deep water South Harbour is currently host to the 'Blue Tern', a vessel used for offshore wind turbine installation.

Image from the 'Marine traffic' website

On Thursday afternoon (when, ironically, the weather was calm and sunny) we took a walk down to the harbour area, circumnavigating the golf course to take  a closer look. 

Gail and I are happy to think that soon the turbine blades loaded on to this huge vessel will be put to use producing nice clean electricity. If everyone is to follow the lead of our dear friend YAM-aunty and start driving around the country in an electric vehicle, we will most certainly need to generate a lot more of the stuff. 

Happy Nature Friday!