8 Apr 2017

8th April 2017 Welcome to the twilght zone!


Saturday 8th 44-52F, 7-11C, dark grey sky and the garden trees are moving slightly in the fitful, westerly wind. Small birds are bouncing about in the branches like ping pong balls. A small group of Bullfinches perform their belated duty as living, Xmas tree ornaments.

The decorative, wild woods to the south. Home to voracious, feral... er-um-er... camels... [?]

A song thrush has been moving steadily closer to our garden from the wild woods to the west. Its voice, a weapon of massed destruction, of the peace and quiet of the countryside. Unlike the mellifluous Blackbirds, the thrush shouts obscenities at the top of its voice to all who must listen. Probably a precursor to the coming wildlife resistance movement as the word goes around that they do indeed have a voice.

The forecast is for brightness later with 25mph gusts. I ought to make the effort to ride today. Just to see if my aches and pains have reduced. I am presuming they are the aftermath of my poor attempt at tobogganing down the stairs without the necessary equipment.

Opening the windows on the catch this morning nearly blew my head off! Definite 8 on the Richter pong index of pig's muck devastation.

The culprit was driving a huge muck spreader on a lead. Well, actually a very long hose was involved. Running back to a noisy shipping container with a large diesel motor to pump the stuff down the pipe. Slow moving but with wide arms to spread the joy far and wide. It reels itself in and out again over vast distances.

After breakfast I walked back to yesterday's track in the woods armed to the teeth with a tape measure. The problem was finding the same print. I saw lots of large dog/wolf prints but  not the huge one I saw yesterday. Perhaps it was further on. There were several MTB tracks too for the first time in those woods.

The real reason for the post title was when a distant white spot caught my eye. I looked though my binoculars but could not believe my eyes. A large, white, albino stag, with a huge crown of antlers, was moving amongst his flock of ten to twelve Red deer! I have never seen such large deer on my daily walks so where they have been hiding is a mystery. Presumably in the deep, dark woods.

One supposes the hunters will not shoot such an unusual creature because he makes such an easy target. Even from my most distant point I could easily see the animal contrasted against the dark forest background. Unfortunately it was always far too distant for a photograph. The nearest I could get from the road was 900 yards away but it was easily visible even to the naked eye from just over a mile away as I exited the woods. Now I am back at home I reek of the the smell of pig's muck carried on the air.

More of the same later as I rode away. The smell, not the deer, which had moved on when a tractor arrived to rake the prairie next door. Cool and still grey, with a strong headwind coming home. Only 7 miles. My chest still hurts when I breathe too deeply. [i.e. Panting] How am I supposed to climb out of the saddle if I can't breathe? 😇

Sunday 9th 40-58F, 4-14C, breezy, but bright, with thin, high cloud. It is supposed to be calm now but gusting to 25mph later. Where do I queue for my compensation handout? I was hoping for a longer ride today but don't even have a Corny muesli choccy bar to my name.

After yesterday's 8-hour, late, heavy bombardment I thought I'd better aim my walking boots at the command and control center position. That which had [allegedly] sent out the toxic attack on our civilian olfactories. But there it was, gone. No sign of the vast container, with its roaring diesel. Nor the queue of [equally vast] stainless steel, 7-axle tanker lorries.

The thrush has finally reached our garden but is [thankfully] proving vulnerable to my closely-grouped retaliation of hurled insults. I always fancied myself as a sniper. Most just see it as personal  criticism or, simply, too much wittering-on. Only a 3 mile ride on an errand.

Click on any image for an enlargement.

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