Wisdom acquired

Winter at the Model Boat Pond

Once a gangly tangle, of legs not well controlled,

A skinny frame and fuzzy puppy face,

Eager to explore, not wise, too bold,

With joyful bounce I leapt onto thin ice...

A nasty shock ensued, the ice gave way,

The model boat pond water chilled my core,

I panicked, and my limbs would not obey

My frozen brain, I could not reach the shore.

Gail to the rescue! Her long arms 

Reached out and grabbed me firmly round the trunk

And saved me from more self-inflicted harm,

And hard I learned the dangers of a winter dunk.

So ten years on, and sensibly attired,

My Nordic sweater proof against the chill, 

I calmly pose beside the frozen pond, wisdom acquired.

Of reckless youthful capers, I have had my fill!

 

Up there with Amundsen and Peary....?

The latitude might only have been 57ºN but surely Tuesday's expedition from the car park at Dyce will rank alongside the exploits of Amundsen, Scott, Shackleton, Nansen and Peary in the annals of polar exploration. 

In treacherously icy conditions, two cars, one containing myself and Gail, the other her intrepid friends M and J, reached the parking area beside the River Don at the appointed time - and only once en route did M and J's vehicle require the intervention of human muscle power in order to propel it forwards across a particularly slippery patch of tarmac...

Suitably equipped - parkas, woolly hats, boots, double layers of gloves, poles, provisions, dog treats etc. - the party then carefully inched away from the cars and successfully negotiated several feet of black ice to reach the safety of some railings beside the river path.

After a detailed evaluation of the conditions, it was decided to attempt to venture east, sticking where possible to the grass at the edge of the path as this offered superior footholds.

But after about fifty yards the valiant explorers were running out of options. J went to recce a possible route away from the river, saying as he left "I may be gone some time".  He returned with tales of a perilous half frozen bog, and the exhausted party chose to return to the picnic table beside the cars.

There, fortified by hot coffee from their flasks, and a packet of Lebkuchen, the party congratulated themselves on their safe return from such a daring feat of exploration, and decided to call it a day. Home fires beckoned.

Whereupon the sun came out and a robin appeared in the hope of finding that the fearless adventurers had left behind some Lebkuchen crumbs...

WISHING A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL OUR FRIENDS! 

Safety moment with Bertie in Ballochbuie

As lots of my friends in the Northern Hemisphere have been dealing, to various degrees, with snow and ice this week, I feel a 'Cold Weather Safety Moment' is appropriate today.

Yesterday Gail and I ventured inland to Ballochbuie Forest (part of the Queen's Balmoral estate) where the snow was deep and powdery.

Too deep in fact for us to be able to complete our planned route, but we did manage a short walk along the River Dee.

You see in the picture below that the river looks much narrower than usual, as ice has formed along the banks. It's hard to make out exactly where the solid earth stops and the ice starts, as it's all covered in snow. 

Since I am (mostly) a Good Boy these days, I do not have wear a lead on country walks, unless we are near farm livestock or roads. However, you will notice that here beside the river I am attached to Gail by my 'walking string'. 

This is because, in addition to being a 'Good Boy' I am also, at the age of nearly nine, a 'Sensible Chap', and am comforted by the thought that Gail will will keep me safely away from venturing on to any treacherously thin ice and falling into the fast flowing water.   

It later occurred to me that I would have been even safer had I been wearing my harness (the one normally reserved for train journeys through Newcastle).

Away from the river bank, the main hazard is a chilly bum!

The right amount of snow on Nature Friday

A certain person has been busy at work this week, and I was beginning to fear that the best I would manage for the LLB gang's Nature Friday blog hop would be the photo Gail emailed me on Wednesday, taken from her office window.

(What? Your human doesn't email you pictures from work? That's dreadful!)

Well I'm pleased to report that we did finally manage an outing yesterday afternoon, a walk from our house, through Duthie Park, across the River Dee and up to the 'Gramps' and back. We have a wee bit of snow and ice in Aberdeen but, as you can see, not so much as to spoil one's fun

For those interested, this is the route. Although it's an urban area, we are lucky to have plenty of parks and green spaces for your enjoyment on Nature Friday.

Gail and I would like to send warming thoughts to those of our transatlantic friends shivering in the Polar Vortex. We really can't imagine that degree of cold.

Early morning cold weather tip

When you spy the snow plough coming towards you in Duthie Park...

... Move quickly 'cos the driver thinks he's Lewis Hamilton.

But in normal circumstances, I like to take my time over the early morning park circuit. Why rush when all that achieves is to bring forward the hour when your human abandons you to go to work?

And when, as yesterday, new snow has fallen, adding that touch of novelty to the otherwise familiar scene, there is all the more reason to linger.

I should also let you know that just at the moment I am trying, when out and about, to keep my distance from Gail. As would you if your owner had, on the basis of a cold late February blast from Siberia, excavated from the depths of her wardrobe the outsize padded jacket she was issued two decades ago for winter wear on a Northern North Sea oil platform... (Her theory that this jacket looks OK 'cos it's the same blue as my own natty winter coat only betrays her woeful lack of fashion sense. As if the notion of dressing up all matchy matchy with your dog somehow compensates for appearing in public like a heffalump who just ate all the pies.)

Tell me, are you ever embarrassed to be seen out with your human?

Ice skates for Christmas?

Gosh you know it's only a quarter of a mile to the park but it took FOR EVER to walk there this morning.

We have here a worst case scenario, paw grip-wise.

It all started over a week ago with two to three inches of snow.

Of course the Aberdeen City Council road gritter considers our quiet road the lowest of low priority.

Over the next few days the traffic compressed the snow and it packed down hard and turned to ice.

Then it rained in the night and the very top layer of ice melted to create a surface maximum hazard.

Our road is now like a skating rink but more slippery.

And we discover that Gail is no Torvill and I am no Dean.

I would like to mention that humans have it relatively easy; they are not faced with the problem of maintaining their balance while cocking their leg (a slightly tricky manoeuvre on the best of surfaces, for a WFT with a high centre of gravity and compact paws).

Ok, so Gail has pointed out that I don't absolutely have to cock my leg.

But really, what self respecting male wants to be seen IN PUBLIC peeing like a girl?

Intrepid

No-one likes to think they are getting old and unadventurous do they?

When Gail and I woke up to a snowy street scene in Aberdeen on Friday morning, I could tell she was having second thoughts about our plan to drive across the Highlands to Torridon this weekend.

Well we went for the usual walk in the park ...

... then checked the weather forecast about 87 zillion times, and I bounced around the house reminding Gail of the importance of staying young at heart, and to my great relief she flipped into girl scout 'be prepared' mode and announced: "Ok Bertie let's put the shovel in the car, and a thermos of coffee, and charge the phone, pack loads of warm clothes (including your hot-off-the-knitting-needles new jumper) and head out west".

Five hours and only one minor skid later, just before dark, we arrived in Torridon.

I regard it as totally unimportant that come this morning the steep road leading down to the cottage is now too icy for Gail's car, even with its winter tyres, to ascend.

We have food and fuel for several days, books to read, a so-called broadband internet connection and a blog to write, and the world will not end if Gail fails to make it to that work meeting in Aberdeen on Tuesday...

Oh yes and later today we shall be calling round to visit our nice neighbour and expert knitter Julia. Do you think she'll approve of my sweater?

 

A not untypical Scottish winter hillwalking experience.

"Discretion is the better part of valour".

So said Gail when as we turned around after less than four miles and headed back the way we came, rather than pressing on to the summit of Pressendye and completing the ten mile circular walk as originally intended.

We had started in the wee village of Tarland, temperature minus 2ºC, but the sun was shining and I felt only a gentle breeze in my furs.

We passed through farmland, slithering along an icy road, with recent flood water frozen over then covered with a dusting of snow.



Ascending the first hill, the powdery snow deepened, but Gail and I were still going strong, and enjoying the lovely views of Morven and surrounds.


After losing the path up a steep bit, suddenly we found ourselves on a broad ridge.

How is that, so often when walking in the Scottish hills, a gentle breeze can transform in an instant into an Arctic blast?

Gail wrapped her scarf around her face, Taliban style, but my blue coat was flapping in the wind, exposing my snowy rump.


As we climbed above about 500 metres, Gail seemed to be struggling, her boots sinking through the thin crust of ice and into snow, by now several inches deep. She consulted the map and to my great disappointment announced that we had better not continue onwards.

Gosh, humans can use up a lot of words in self justification, can't they? I mean, all she needed to say was, "sorry Bertie, I'm a wimp" but instead variously cited: slow progress through the snow; a steep and slippery descent; no torches and it getting dark by 4pm; us being up here all alone with no other hikers in sight, her feeling a bit of cramp in the hamstring as an after effect of a long cold bicycle ride the day before and not being as young as she used to be; dark clouds gathering on the hills in the distance; no water for me to drink on the frozen hilltop; wind chill factor of several degrees below…

So anyway, I got the point and, to be honest, by the time we were back in Tarland, I was more than happy to curl up in the car and be driven home with the heater on high.

The perfect storm?

Us dogs always know when something is up, don't we?

My familiar routine was disrupted this week when Gail came home from work early on Wednesday and started rushing around making lots of phone calls, packing bags and generally acting fraught.

We did go to Agility Club as usual that evening, where I was feeling full of bounce, despite Gail's apparently distracted state.

But when I woke up on Thursday morning, my paw was hurting REALLY BADLY and I absolutely did not want to walk further than the nearest lamppost.

I lifted up my paw and gave Gail my best pity party look, but instead of being all sympathetic (like she usually is) Gail just looked at me and said. "Oh no Bertie, this is such bad timing!"

So there was a hastily arranged visit to vet, where Ashley, my favourite vet lady, gently examined my left paw and the words "inter-digital cyst" and "antibiotics" featured in the ensuing conversation between her and Gail.

Then instead of being taken home to rest I was bundled into the car and we drove a very long way indeed.

The weather was truly horrid. I'd like to make a pun about gales and Gails, but from the way my precious human was gripping the steering wheel in an effort to stay on the motorway, as torrential rain lashed the windscreen of the wind-buffeted car, I suspect any jokes about the Scottish weather would not be appreciated.

Rain turned to heavy snow as we crossed the Pennines and still we drove on.

It dawned on me that we were on the way to Human Granny's house, which seemed odd as we'd only returned from there less than three weeks ago.

We finally arrived in Nottingham and, oh dear, I am so sorry to report that my beloved HGY is not at all well.

I fear Gail might not have much time to assist me with my blog for the next week or so.

The wrong decision

I thought the flooded ground was frozen solid.

I didn't realise the water was several inches deep.

I didn't stop to think before I dashed across.

And now my legs are cold and wet.

Brrrr.

P.S. Friends, thank you so much for all your wonderful and incredibly interesting contributions to my 'science of attraction' study. If you have not yet commented on what it is that you find attractive in a fellow pup, then you still can; just go to my previous post 'My new role, science and romance' (12 January 2015).

Am I in Australia?

Bad movies/good movies

You'd think it would be safe to allow your human a night out once in a while, to go to the movies, for example. I'm cool with that idea. I'm a big pup now and don't mind being 'home alone' for a couple of hours. I understand that sometimes Gail thinks she needs mental stimulation other than that which I provide.

Well, I'm telling you. Do NOT let your humans anywhere near this new silent film 'The Artist'. They could come back with all sorts of worrying notions.

"Hey Bertie", Gail called out when she arrived home at 11pm last night, "can you do that crouching down, head tucked back between the front legs pose? Like the Jack Russell in the film I just saw? It's a sort of 'I can't bear to watch this' gesture. SO cute."

No Gail I can't do that.

But I can growl.

Grrrrrhhh.

And no, I am not going to be mollified by being told the dog was totally the star of the show. Why ever might you imagine it could be otherwise?

I'm thinking my readers might now want to watch a wee movie filmed on my walk yesterday afternoon, in which I am the main attraction.

Well OK, me and the sounds of the wind and the tinkling of ice fragments on the loch.