Higgledy-Piggledy & My Shifting State Of Commotion

Smiling Ginger Pig & Me

Smiling Ginger Pig & Me

It’s been a bit busy around here the last 22 months or so and even longer if you include the 3.5 months I was in Atlanta in 2011 dealing with real estate issues. I’m happy to say that I made a few major changes recently, chief of which was quitting my part-time job and I am now ready to move on to other things.

Pet petting was on yesterday’s to-do list. Okay, maybe it wasn’t on the list, but when the opportunity presented I thought, I really want to pet that Ginger pig on the nose and I’m not going to let that electric fence stop me!

I’d never seen Ginger pigs before and it seems Tamworths, as they are actually known, have an interesting history. This delightfully written website will answer loads of questions about the breed and tell you much more than I could about these friendly pigs.

I can say that giving these little ones a couple of pats and ear scratches may well have put me off bacon.

Ginger Pig

Ginger Pig

IMG_9450 Who knew that some pigs had such long eyebrows and eyelashes. That’s going to put me off sausage too.

IMG_9456

Ginger Pig Nose

Moor Surprises … On A Saturday Walk

The trade-off for a having a fair amount of rainy days in Cornwall is the green you see everywhere when you step outside the door. Yesterday, John and I took a walk around our village and up on the moor. We were a short distance from our home when we were surprised by something pretty exciting.

The wild horses in the photo above are not unusual on the moor, but what happened not long after I took this shot was unexpected.

John and I were standing on a landmark piece of rock talking about the view when the horses munching nearby bolted and ran in towards the edge of the field. (John took the photo above)

They stood still for a moment as if they were listening for something and then began to move about in the direction of the path that leads walkers up to the moor. There’s a wooden gate not too far from where they’re standing and at one point two of them moved off in that direction.

A minute or so later the moorland horses turned and ran towards us and to our surprise, we saw that we were suddenly standing in the path of a fox hunt.

As the horse and riders came towards us, there were loads of hound dogs spreading out around them like cartoon ants swarming out across a picnic tablecloth.

Here you can see that some of the dogs have spotted us and are looking up where we are standing on the rock.

This man was the one blowing the horn which seemed to help in keeping the hounds focused and moving as a large mass. There’s a master of foxhounds for the hunt, but I don’t know if that’s what his role was or why he seemed to have the only horn. Maybe a reader can help clarify this for me.

The riders kept coming long after the dogs had passed by.

Fox hunting is no longer legal in England, Scotland, and Wales, but they are allowed to follow artificially laid trails. It’s said that abuse can and does occur, but we didn’t see a fox anywhere near the hounds and riders.

After they passed by we continued walking, going about a mile before seeing something else we didn’t expect.

We were walking down a lane when I spotted a red fox who broke into a run as soon as he saw us. We stopped and waited to see if  we might catch another look and he came back and stood on the other side of the bramble above staring at us for just a minute. I tried not to move or even breathe hoping to get a photo, but the best I could do was the shot below.

The reddish-brown blob you see in the center is the fox as it turned to go. It stared at us full on for about ten seconds before running off. I was surprised that it didn’t keep going when it ran from us the first time. It actually seemed as if it came back to check us out more carefully before disappearing across the field.

These last photos are just a few that I took on our way home and have no special meaning other than I liked what I was seeing.

We did run into Polly, who seemed anxious to get home. Her owners were with her and said that she always picks up a stick when they goes for walks and carries it all the way.  She leaves them outside in the garden and they go into the wood burner to help heat the house.

Last week we got a wood burner … perhaps we need a dog like Polly to help bring in some extra fuel for the fire.

Unlikely Friendships

” Francis, Francis, why do you always wander away when I’m trying to talk to you?”

“I know she’s back, I can see her at the wall too, why don’t we waddle over and say hello, come on old boy, what can it hurt? ”

” You must think I’m crazy, Giovanni … that is a dog and it does not want to play! It looks as if it wants lunch! ”

 ” Francis, could you just try to get on with others a bit better, it’s a big world out there and I think we should explore more than this patch of water. What about a little trip to see what’s on the other side of this pond?”

” Alright fine, but just remember who’s leading this expedition!”

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There’s a place I like to walk where I always look for these two unlikely seeming friends when I pass by. In mild weather they sit in the river on one side of the house and in winter you can see them in the back garden at the edge of a small pond.

It seems funny to see a drake and gander always hanging out together like two good old boys who don’t seem to need anyone else. I like to create little vignettes when I see them and I find their constancy very comforting in a world where things often change faster than I would like.

I gave them names from history for today’s post and wondered if any of you might recognize who they represent?