The Courier & Advertiser (Angus and Dundee)
Fine weather for pheasants, less so for my wee fair-weathered friend Hamish
Hamish is proving to be a fairweather dog – not for him the walks on the wild side with the rain coming down in stair rods. I have to towel him down as soon we get indoors or he rolls about on the carpets to dry himself, much to the Doyenne’s disapproval.
HV Morton in his classic travelogue, In Search Of Scotland, wrote “…nowhere on Earth is quite like Scotland. It is an incredibly beautiful and moody country. No, it isn’t all sunshine, flowers and warmth….. there is only mist, wind, rain, the cry of the curlew and the slow clouds above damp moorland. That is the real Scotland; … that is the Scotland that even a stranger learns to love”.
Robert Burns described a walk during a wild storm. “There is scarcely any earthly object gives me more – I do not know if I should call it pleasure, but something which exalts me, something which enraptures me – than a walk on the sheltered side of a wood or high plantation on a cloudy winter day, and hear the stormy wind howling among the trees and raving over the plain.”
I can identify with those sentiments. Hamish and I go out each afternoon, sometimes in fairly disagreeable conditions. He’s got a very effective waterproof hair shirt and I dress according to the conditions, so the weather presents no problems. As the Doyenne says, although it’s probably not a view shared by Hamish, there’s no such thing as bad weather just inappropriate clothing.
We walk on the sheltered side of the woods and hear the wind howling through the high branches. We don’t venture beyond the trees to experience the wind raving over the plain, which seems a bit extreme.
Like HV Morton, I can love this moody Scotland. Like Burns, I find it exhilarating to walk through wild winds and driving rain, meeting the elements head on.
When I’m asked how easy it is to write a column to order, week after week, I often say that nature writes the column for me. I go out with Hamish and look and listen, and I come home and write about what I’ve seen and what I’ve heard.
Driving home from a woodland walk with Hamish I met a covey of 11 French, or red legged, partridge in the middle of the road. I slowed, expecting them to take flight but in a fit of collective daftness they decided to make a run for it. For several hundred yards they scampered ahead of me veering wildly from side to side of the narrow country road, looking for a gap for a quick exit.
At the bellmouth of a field gate, half of them ducked under it and the rest at last took flight. Their speed up the road had been at least 10mph. With their dumpy bodies and wee, sawn-off legs it seemed an impressive turn of speed.
For some birds flying uses up a great deal of energy. They will run from danger rather than take flight unless they have to. Another example is pheasants which are heavy birds to get airborne but can show a clean pair of heels – or claws - when they need to.
Sitting with a friend in his sun room in Brechin, the neighbourhood cock pheasant flew into the garden. It stalked, devil may care, across his lawn, stopping to gaze at us as if we were the ones out of place.
They are handsome, resplendent birds – rich copper plumage with hedgerow browns shot through with iridescent green and purple, shading off towards the rump.
Metallic-green head plumage, distinctive white collar, scarlet cheek wattles and erect feathered ear tufts giving them an alert appearance. As if that isn’t enough – russet tail feathers, as long again as the body, trailing grandly behind, glittering eyes, a supercilious attitude and you can understand why they are one of nature’s exquisites.
On a previous occasion I watched a cock pheasant fly into Brechin Cathedral churchyard and then into a neighbouring garden where I suspect it was being fed. They fly across the River South Esk from the home woods round Brechin Castle and so long as they are not panicked they quickly get used to being around us humans. It’s good to be able to get so close to nature.
When Hamish and I go out for the last walk before bed as often as not we are kept company by tawny owls chiming up and warning each other that the night is no longer only theirs. Some nights back he and I walked under a near full moon. I could clearly hear a pack of geese flying overhead but they were invisible against a cloudless, night sky. This is because I was looking into infinity. Without a background of cloud to reflect them the geese could have been the size of V-bombers and I still wouldn’t have seen them.
I find it exhilarating to walk through wild winds and driving rain