Fox hunting fantasies

So yesterday while I was left at home, frustrated that the few remaining highlighter pens had been locked away safe from WFT jaws, Gail was out on her bicycle enjoying some (relatively) warm Spring weather. 

Really I wasn't that interested in the photo she showed me of her cycling friends posing outside Castle Fraser. 

Left to right: Anne, Muriel, Sonia, Linda, Imogen and Lindsey

I was, however, rather intrigued by the second photo, taken by fellow cyclist Muriel as the group were approaching a favourite coffee and scone stop in the village of Monymusk. 

Now, as you might already know, the traditional role of the fox terrier (not to be confused with the fox hounds pictured above) was to flush out any foxes that had gone to earth in the course of a hunt. Hunting for foxes with dogs has been banned in Scotland for over twenty years, and the regulations were recently tightened to close loopholes in the legislation. 

And I had happily accepted the situation, despite a lingering urge to be allowed follow my natural instincts. Happy that is, until I saw this photo clearly showing pack of fox hounds (although not terriers), trotting alongside mounted humans, one of whom was wearing traditional fox hunting garb. Had I been lied to about the ban?

Gail tells me that neither she nor any of her friends had ever before seen this sight on the country roads of Aberdeenshire (and believe me, these ladies get out and about a lot). They are not sure exactly what was going on but, disappointingly, Gail still seems convinced that my desire to take active part in a proper fox hunt is likely to remain unfulfilled, except in my dreams...

Er, does this qualify as a Nature Friday post? 

Quiz answer and "almost sensible"...

 Just rushing over for a wee Monday chat!

First I want to say thank you to all those who took part in my Nature Friday quiz last week. All your answers were spot on, so full marks to everyone! (The 'official' answer we had in mind was tree photo #5, the odd one out as it was the only picture taken in Scotland not Cuba.)

So anyway, I am delighted to report that Gail and I are now back to our usual happy routine here in Scotland, and we have been out and about enjoying the not very wintery January weather.

On Saturday we explored a new walk, starting from the Aberdeenshire village of Monymusk.

It is still the case in this part of Scotland that many woodland walks are obstacle courses. Although it's now well over a year ago since Storm Arwen decimated huge areas of forest, too many tracks hereabouts are yet to be cleared.

I am an agile and springy little fellow so can easily leap over or crawl under the fallen tree trunks. My human is not quite so agile, and any expertise she once had in high jump or limbo dancing is but a distant memory.

Still, we managed to reach our goal, the pretty little artificial loch at Clyan's Dam, where two swans swam over to greet us.

While Gail stood back to admire the their graceful presence, I was keen to get a closer look at the first arrival.

But when the second swan came up to the bank, I decided to back away a little, feeling perhaps that if it came to a conflict, the odds had shifted in favour of the feathered contingent.

 

It was rather patronising of Gail to observe that I might actually be becoming "almost sensible" now that I am into my second year...