Seaweed versus sheep poo...

One's tastes change and evolve as one matures, don't they?

Gail tells me that in childhood she preferred Primula 'cheese' over Blue Stilton. Now quite the opposite! 

On previous visits to Torridon, when just a puppy, I delighted in the proliferation of droppings left by the many sheep which roam around the unfenced fields (and on the road) close to our cottage. 

For some reason Gail never approved of me consuming this particular delicacy. There was a lot of yanking on my lead and yelling "No Nobby, NO!!!".

Now that I am pushing 8 months old I have, much to Gail's apparent delight, outgrown my sheep poo phase and discovered a new source of totally yummy treats, conveniently located by the shore of Loch Torridon (a sea loch).

Do you like seaweed? Or perhaps you live in the middle of a big continent and have never had the opportunity to sample this satisfyingly squelchy snack? What then is your favourite Food for Free?

PS from Gail: Worried readers can be assured that, in truth, Nobby only really likes playing with seaweed - putting it in his mouth and dragging it around. If he swallows any at all, it is in very small amounts. 

Happy Nature Friday to all our friends! And once again a big thank you to Rosy and the rest of the LLB Gang for hosting this, our favourite blog hop. Do go and visit the other posts. 

A change of regime

What dog lover did not feel a twinge of sadness at the sight of of the late Queen's corgis, Muick and Sandy, watching the Monday's funeral procession at Windsor?

Sadness turned to deepest sympathy when Gail later read that Muick and Sandy are now in the joint custody of Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson...

Meanwhile, there is a change of regime at Buckingham Palace!

It was well known how Queen Elizabeth adored the corgi breed, and I've no complaints about that. Each to their own etc. But I admit I am delighted to report our new King and Queen Consort are, in my humble opinion, much closer to the mark in their preference for Jack Russell Terriers.

As we all know, life is merrier with a terrier! 

About three years ago, Gail and a fellow Plantlife volunteer were out at the Balmoral estate conducting a wild flower monitoring survey. As they were being driven down a forest track by one of the estate rangers they passed Camilla out walking her beloved JRTs Beth and Bluebell (both rescue animals from Battersea Dogs' Home).  Camilla gave a cheery wave before she strode on down the track. She was wearing wellies, a well worn Barbour jacket and slightly muddy leggings and Gail says she looked entirely happy, relaxed and in her element. 

We wish King Charles and Queen Camilla all the best in their long anticipated new roles, and hope they still can find time, every now and then, to escape from the pomp and circumstance in London and relax with their dogs at their Scottish estate. 

 

Meanwhile I, Nobby, am happily imagining the mayhem that might result from two Jack Russells rampaging around Buck House...

PS from Gail: I absolutely promise to those suffering from monarchy overload that this will be final word on the UK's Royal Family for a good while on this blog, but I've just found a picture of King Edward VII's beloved wire fox terrier 'Caesar' taking pride of place behind the coffin in the King's funeral procession in 1910.  Reportedly, Kaiser Wilhelm II of the German Empire was annoyed at a 'mere dog' being given such precedence!

Developing the independent terrier spirit...

I am so happy that it was on Friday when Gail and her friend Tess took me for a Torridon hill walk.

And not on Saturday.

However, I do have one small confession to make, relating to our otherwise perfect Friday outing.

Perhaps you can see that Gail is holding tightly onto my lead here on the hill, and giving me a stern talking to...

But it's hardly my fault, is it, if a small flock of sure-footed black sheep suddenly appeared out of nowhere on the ridge of the hill (in a place where Gail has never ever seen livestock before) and just as I was having fun roaming free and sniffing around in the heather, those sheep came past, heading for the precipitously rocky side of the hill. So suddenly I heard cries of "come Nobby, come! COME!!!!" and detected a note of panic in Gail's voice. 

Was it really necessary for me to come right away, my adolescent brain wondered. The yearning for a taste of independence is common to all youngsters when they reach a certain age, right? And, this was a great place to explore, and surely Gail would calm down in a minute or two. I was well away from the sheep and was certainly not minded to do anything stupid like follow them over a cliff edge. 

But the shouts just got louder, and so, remembering that she probably still had some treats in her pocket, I trotted back up the slope to where Gail was standing with Tess, both of them looking very anxious but also relieved to see me. 

I would like to have comforted them with the thought that it is only right and proper for a pup of nearly eight months old to start to 'test the boundaries'. Surely, Gail should be more worried if I was not developing my independent terrier spirit?

In Nature, Remembered

Amid the Heather

I think it fitting,

That here I remember you, our Queen.

Here in your favourite corner of your realm,

Amid the heather, bog myrtle and fern,

On a soft and mossy carpet, I respectfully sit.

As you lie in grandeur at Westminster,

Subjects file past, thousand upon thousand,

Some cry, others bow or quietly curtsey.

Surely you would rather be

In your beloved Highlands.

Far from flummery and excess deference,

Walking through the pines and birch trees,

Philip at you side,

Corgis at your feet. 

Naughty Nobby meets Mischievous Monty

 

Gail and I had lovely outing with our friends M and J on Monday. We visited Stonehaven, along the coast 15 miles south of Aberdeen.

Can you guess what the highlight was? 

Perhaps it was the chance to admire the view over the quaint harbour?

(Photo kindly provided by M)

Or maybe it was a run on the beach and a paddle?

Or was it the blue sky and sea and the sight of Dunnotar Castle in the far distance?

All wrong!  The highlight of the outing, by a country mile, was a chance encounter with fox terrier Monty, who turns out to be one of my older brothers. Despite being 18 months old and from the same parents, he is quite tiny compared to me! 

At first he seemed a little shy.

But that soon wore off, and before you could say "Mischievous Monty" I had him laughing away at my favourite "Naughty Nobby" joke...

"Have you heard the one about the human who thought she could outsmart her WFT....?"