Friday, 16 December 2011

Day 73 in Exile

This morning it has not been the harpy's day. We went for a walk on the beach and up into the hills, she had to make a slight diversion as there were sheep on the usual trail we take and whilst we can now walk past a field of them without yelling and pointing, she is not 100% confident about teetering on the edge of a cliff and passing them by.  No sense of adventure!

As we got up into the hills this morning a cheeky rabbit shot out of the dunes right into my path.  I was momentarily shocked, but being quick witted managed to grab it despite being on a lead and hold it.  At which point the shrew was utterly astounded and for just one moment speechless!  Of course her silence did not last and she told me to release it at once.  By this time the kelb realised that I had some treasure and also wanted to have some, so I was growling at him!  I don't share!  The shrill grinding of the shrew's voice was too much to bear and I decided to let the rabbit go, as I am a chaser not a killer and all my joy comes from running after the little furry creatures.  As I let it go I saw the horror on the female infidel's face as she braced herself and the kelb and I both took off in different directions, still on leads.  She was almost pulled in half like a wish bone and began shrieking even more.  She sounded like a crow sqwuaking and was flapping her arms around in an alarming manner.  Finally she got us back under control and the rabbit had made off into the dunes to no doubt have a heart attack.

We carried on walking through the hills and headed back towards the beach.  Just as we reached the top of a dune a little bird flew across her path bouncing down the hill in flight.  My running instinct kicked in and I took her off guard as I plummeted down the hill after the little bird taking her and the kelb with me.  I was quite impressed by the fact she remained upright until she was half way down the dune, which was pretty solid from the ground frost.  She tripped over her own feet and stumbled and once again the female infidel was flat out prone position face in the sand and miraculously still gripping onto our leads for grim  death.  She was very red in the face and through gritted teeth she yelled "STOP!".  The kelb was gormless as ever wondering what had just happened.

The shrew got up and brushed all the sand off herself, regained her composure and we made our way back along the beach towards home.  Normally she takes a little pathway back, but this morning she looked at it and it was very icy, so she decided to go back through all the fields.  We ambled along, and she almost lost her mind as the kelb started to munch on the frozen horse manure that was spread in the field.  I think this was a bridge too far for her this morning.  If only she had known that just as we tunred out of the last field the local farmer would send his flock down to the fields directly into our path.  I thought she would spotaneously combust as she attempted to scrabble back to the safety of the field we had just come out of, dragging us along behind her as she speed marched us up the road away from the oncoming sheep heading our way.  She somehow managed to shove us through the gate just as they all ran up the hill past us bleating and blowing raspberries at the kelb and I, who by now had been rugby tackled to the ground and were being held hostage behind a wall in a frozen field, as the shrew lay in the freezing mud  clinging onto our collars like her life depended on it cursing like Mrs De Nero and looking rather ticked off.  I don't know when we shall be walked again.


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