Just a big kid...

It seems to me that my owner Gail is something of a hypocrite. 

One minute she is lecturing me on how I should be conducting myself like a proper grown up dog now that I am nearly two years old. 

And then I observe how, well into her seventh decade, she's been acting like a big kid all week just because we have a few inches of snow. 

Domestic chores have been neglected, paperwork has piled up, errands remained unrun, all just so Gail can go out and play in the Winter Wonderland that is NE Scotland right now. She says the snow probably won't last long and it's important to seize the moment.

OK. I admit. It has been fun. 

Especially when the sun came out for our walk around Dunecht Estate on Wednesday afternoon and the snow was all sparkling and powdery, the silver birch bark glistened and the skies were crystal blue.

Or even better on Thursday morning, when Gail's cycling group deemed the snowy roads not safe for two wheels (hooray!) and instead Gail and her friend Anne took me for a magical walk through the shifting dunes of Forvie Nature Reserve (momentarily stabilised by snow and ice), and onto the deserted beach where the only disappointment was the complete lack of other dogs to chase.

Happy Nature Friday! 

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.

Is that a euphemism?

Apparently, on Friday this week I am going to the vets to have 'The Snip'.

I have a suspicion, based on the way Gail looked at me when she said it, that 'The Snip' is not quite the trivial and benign affair she is trying to make out.

My suspicions were deepened when I overheard Gail telling a neighbour that I am currently "All male. Perhaps a bit too much so."

Moving quickly on to more agreeable matters. On Sunday I met up with my Aberdeenshire Foxie pals at Forvie Nature Reserve, and we had a glorious romp through the sand dunes, onto the beach and back along the Ythan estuary (steering well clear of the large seal colony which resides that the point where the estuary meets the sea).. 

By the way, I think I am just exactly the right amount of male....