I'm Quarry Quarry...

I went for a walk by the sand quarries up on the hill. The air was heavy with the heady aroma of the Gorse in full bloom. The flowers smell of almonds. Although they're edible, I find them a bit bitter, but they are good for making salads look pretty.

There's been hardly any rain lately, the ground was dry and cracked. Normally these shallow silt bottomed puddles are great for finding animal tracks. You can tell what the badgers have been up to, and if the invisible deer herd has come through recently. I say 'invisible' because I see tracks, hair, nibbled foliage, mangled saplings from bucks rubbing their antlers, their mud hollows, and flattened areas where they've slept, but never ever see the deer themselves... Invisible, the only explanation!

As I made my way along the edge of the quarry, I got the feeling I was being watched. There was no one there, hardly anyone ever comes here. The occasional rustle, crack of a twig, but as soon as I turned to look... silence. The buzzard was up on the hill, surveying his world from his lookout post. He'd got his eye on something, he was staring at a dense patch of gorse behind me. Suddenly, spooked, he flew off. I got the feeling that I was being stalked by something.

The day was pleasant enough, but there was a nagging cold north wind. I headed down into the old woods where it was more sheltered and strung my hammock up in my usual spot between an ancient Yew and a young Oak.
I settled down with a flask of coffee and a great book... Running with the Fox by David Macdonald.

Every so often I heard a noise in the undergrowth. There was definitely something out there.

Then my pursuer showed himself. It was my old acquaintance. This isn't one of the foxes from the family of foxes that I go to see each night and feed. This is a good number of miles away.

We met last year when he came to investigate the smell of the bacon sandwiches I was cooking. We met a second time when I was scrambling to the top of a steep grass incline, and he was coming up the other side. We came nose to nose, paused and went quickly our separate ways. Since then we see each other from a distance, sometimes he barks to me to let me know he's seen me.

He's become used to me being around, and realises that I mean him no harm. Curiosity gets the better of him and he'll come to have a gander sometimes.

This wood is deserted, as well as the quarry and so he seems comfortable to spend a lot of time out in the daytime.

Once he ascertained that there were no bits of bacon to be had, he was off to catch some more voles.

No Bacon is Snow Fun...

Snow at last! I love the snow. Other parts of the country have had a covering several times already this year, but we've only had the brass monkey temperatures without any of the fun stuff...

In the early hours I set off along the deserted roads. A quick stop at the petrol station, followed by a couple of drifting laps of the traffic island... the joy of 'left foot braking'!!!

The sparkly, powdered country lanes were beautiful in the glare of the rooflights. Spangles of silver danced in the beams as the front of the car flicked snow off the hedgerows. Driving sideways is so much fun!

I went to see my friends, the foxes. The usual chappy was there (you can recognise him by the nick out of his left ear).

He was somewhat impatient, and wouldn't stand still long enough for me to properly focus the camera. He's learnt how to open the car door, and was soon wrestling with the locked handle... he's going to break it one day!

On the menu tonight was, 'Bacon Surprise'... bread soaked in bacon fat but without any bacon... Surprise!!!

Still it smelt nice.

Very nice...

In fact it tasted so yummy that it made you forget that your bottom was getting cold on the snow.

"I wonder if there'll be raisins for pudding?"... I'm sure we can manage that.

It's snow fun...

With snow becoming rarer each winter it was nice to get out into the winter wonderland. The TV reported traffic chaos... I didn't notice it. The roads were empty and there was plenty of fun to be had left foot braking into the bends!
My plan was to head up to a place called 'Crows Castle', a hill out in the fields where there are views in all directions. I took the bridle path through the woodlands dodging the muddy bits, electing to follow the fox tracks because he knows it better than I do.
It was nice to enjoy the virgin snow, the only other tracks being coney.
Energy running low it was time for some nosh. I fuelled up my ever faithful meth stove. This tiny titanium stove is brilliant, it's super light and really tough (I've stepped on it many times!)
Soon the bacon was sizzeling. What is it about food outdoors that makes it taste SOoo good?
As I crossed the higher fields I left the shelter of the trees and the wind was bitter.
By the time I was in view of Crows Castle the wind chill made it difficult to remove my gloves for long in order to take photos.
It's lovely up here, wild and windswept. A favourite haunt for the Buzzards. The Scots Pines are old and gnarled. The high fields spread out to the horizon on a clear day. It was way too cold to hang around for long, so I headed back home.
Back in the warmth of the trees I spent a while tracking badgers. There was a group of three. It looked as if they'd been having fun. There were 'snuffle' marks and patches of disturbed snow where they'd been larking about.
I followed them as far as the Christmas tree nursery where I lost the tracks in the tangled undergrowth. Tired and tea deficient, I headed back to the car...