Day 107 - A Gathering of Wind

empty crag

It's been a long day today, so a fairly succinct précis will have to do.

I had the day off, using up my last day of leave on the last day of the leave year to take a trip up to Windgather with Jezz.   The forecast had been threatening rain for a few days, but so far it had mostly failed to materialise. 

When we got there, we had the entire crag to ourselves - brilliant!

At least, it was brilliant for three or maybe even four minutes, until two transit vans full of students from somewhere or another showed up...

To be fair, though, their leader came straight over to us, asked what we were doing, and said he'd keep everyone out of our way.   We were impressed and appreciative, and replied that we'd go up the far end if they wanted to stay at the near

They didn't bother us all day, which is a first for a group of this type, in my experience - they can completely destroy the peace at a crag!

Anyway we had a great day doing easy trad stuff, literally showing Jezz the ropes.  He's picking it up really quickly, and even led his first climb today!

Here he is girding his loins for his first lead ascent.

loins fully girded

I climbed a couple of VS's, which are near the top of my grade range, and found them quite straightforward...satisfying and encouraging!

I also soloed a few routes, to test my head.  I'm pleased to say that it held up really well.  The only slight pause for thought I had all day was late on, when it had started to rain more heavily.   I was two thirds up a slab, with no ropes, and realised that not only were the footholds very polished, they were also sopping wet.  

It was only a fleeting thought, however, as I realised I simply had to keep climbing upwards, and I made it to the top without drama.   

In any case, I had no adrenaline at any point today.

Here I am climbing a steep, slightly overhanging upper wall, with no ropes:

back on the horse

This was a climb I'd done last year, on ropes, and I'd had a bit of a nightmare on it.   The top section was steep, greasy, scary and exposed, and generally a little bit desperate. 

So obviously, when I was tired at the end of the day and noticed it, I decided to climb it ropeless...

I'm pleased to report that I climbed it much better than last time, and I had no hint of nerves even whilst negotiating the committing top moves...my head is really good on solo at the moment...  

Conditions are starting to look favourable for the 50@50!

B-)

Day 106 - In Search of Balance

steady cam, unsteady lamb

Much like the proverbial buses, you wait weeks to see a new born lamb, with no sign of one, when all of a sudden, dozens turn up all at once!  Over the last few days lambs have started to appear, and now they are arriving by the sheep-load. 

According to this handy table, the ram must have been pretty busy through the early days of last November...although the rate they're dropping today, surely it must have been more than one ram?!  If not, then he's a mighty impressive beast!   Whilst we were down the lane this afternoon for 20 minutes or so, there were several new lambs born in the field. 

This one was still lying down, probably less than an hour old.    As I leaned on an old gate, trying to stay steady enough to get a sharp photo across the field, he struggled up onto his feet for the first time!  He only managed to stay standing for a few seconds, but I caught this lovely photo, as his mum grazed alongside him.   She clearly feels the need to both replenish her energy reserves, and fuel the milk supply that will sustain him for the next few weeks.

Domestic sheep are something of a "fake" species, in the sense that they've been bred to man's purpose for so long that they barely resemble any original, wild stock.  Much like dogs, their natural environment is the one man creates and dictates for them.

But still, in the same way that dogs have retained a few wolf characteristics, modern sheep reflect their genetic ancestry as a successful prey species.  Here you can see how incredibly well developed this baby sheep's legs are...they look as though they're weeks or months ahead of the rest of the lamb's body.

In herding prey species like sheep, horses and the like, the ability to stand up very soon after birth is an important survival trait.  Critically, it enables the new born to keep up with the naturally roaming herd, and so find safety in numbers...the sooner he can run, the higher the odds that he will escape predation....and if he can escape predation for long enough to reach maturity, he will have the chance to pass his genes on to the next generation of early walkers.

And so the wheel of life turns, seemingly endlessly...

So far it's been endless, in any case...let's hope human selfishness and greed don't suck too much life out of the planet...

We are the ongoing output of a 3.5 billion year experiment to see what happens to a simple spark of life, given enough time, and an environment abundant in a range of chemicals, climates and environs within which it can flourish.

As the bleeding edge of this experiment, Homo sapiens has become a very destructive force.  As technology has allowed us to expand, we too often expand prematurely, and without due thought or consideration of our impact on the environment we're expanding into. 

Yet still, we don't stop to think...we just keep relentlessly pushing onwards in short-termist pursuit of wealth, until all major natural global systems are critically out of balance.

As they are now.

Nature eventually finds a way to correct such imbalances - it's simply a matter of physics...

Let's hope we can avoid ending the experiment prematurely...for the sake of all the other species...and here, today, especially for these little dudes:

get up, stand up

Let's find a way to restore balance ourselves, before Gaia, on behalf of Mother Nature, restores it for us.

Day 105 - Classic Climbs

classic climb

We really couldn't miss out on an opportunity to get out on the grit again today.

I'm recovering at last from the shitty lurgy I've been carrying, and Anna is only just holding it at bay.  It's also a difficult times for those with allergies - the pollen count is high, and there seem to be lots of irritants in the air...yesterday, even I had a tight chest, for the first time in, like, ever! 

But the weather today was forecast to be warm and sunny, and it seemed that even high on the gritstone edges of the Peak District, it could be a nice day!

We kept our expectations in check, knowing that it's often 10-15C colder when you get up there in the wind...but as it turned out the weather was glorious!

It really was the perfect Spring trad climbing day.    

perfect day

Anna was feeling a little fragile, so we took it steady on the long walk in to the crag.  I generally dislike the walk in - I have a really heavy climbing pack on my back, and it's always uphill for what seems like forever.   I guess it's just my age, but I do seem to find walking up an incline really tiring.  

Even Kim seemed to find it effortless, in Spain, whilst I huffed and puffed and fought my way upwards... 

Oddly, when climbing it's a different ballgame, and I seem to have much more energy for climbing than I do for hard walking.

The crag was busy, lots of people taking advantage of the first lovely grit day for a while. 

The Peak District is built on a type of hard sandstone rock known as gritstone.  It has unique and distinct characteristics.   For instance the crags are known as "edges", and are rarely very high, usually no more than 20m or so, often a lot less.  The rock itself is rounded and rough.

A new climber on grit is struck by the apparent lack of holds, and just how hard it is to hold on to anything.   But gritstone is unusually rough, like coarse sandpaper, and this means that it is grippy.   You can grip fairly well with both hands and feet simply using careful contact strength. 

As the Peak is more or less our nearest climbable rock, we have spent much of our outdoor career on grit, and we've got the hang of it a bit...but we haven't climbed on it since November last year.

We've climbed on limestone (very different!), in both Spain and Monmouthshire (also very different), and of course on plastic holds indoors. 

So we were excited to get back to grit...it has something of a feeling of home about it.

In the photo at the top, Anna is rested from the walk-in, and ready to climb, pondering her first grit lead of the year. 

It's an emotional moment!

Anna was about to climb up the series of large cracks leading from where she's sitting, up to the top of the crag.

Grit is always harder to climb than you expect, and today was no exception.  But Anna showed true grit and made her way gracefully up to the top in a few minutes. 

I found it quite hard!   Everything seemed slippery, and I had no grip at all with either hands or feet...and you'll remember I told you there's nothing to hold onto?!

But by the next climb, I was getting a feel for it again, and the rest of the day was great, a bunch of interesting classic climbs ticked.

I just interrupted this blog for 60 minutes for Earth Hour...hope you joined in!

Anyway, we feel encouraged by a good start to the season's fun.  Now I just need to start getting into shape again, for my 50@50...I need to get my climbing-without-ropes head back on...

B-)

Day 104 - Eddie and the Hat Rods

cat in a hat

I must be getting a bit better at this photography lark, little by little.   

We were in a restaurant at lunchtime, saying goodbye to a number of colleagues who were leaving work today.  Cutbacks and whatnot, don't you know...who needs public services anyway?  They're only really important to the poor, sick, elderly and otherwise needy.

hmm, I'll try not to get sidetracked onto the criminal damage that this government has done (and is still doing) to our local authorities...

Must.....resist.....

suppress rage....

aaaand breathe....

aaaaand relax....

Sorry, where was I?

Aha, the restaurant!  So there we were, when someone noticed that amongst the fairly random items dotted around the large upstairs room, was this incredible hat. 

Someone plonked it on my mate Eddie's head, and I knew immediately I'd found my photo of the day. 

I took one photo, and this is it...I'm quite pleased with it!   The light is interesting, I somehow managed to frame it half decently, and Eddie is subtly doing his thing perfectly. 

'e's a legend in 'is own lunchtime, and no mistake!

We then had a huge electric storm a short time later, massive thunderclaps shaking the building, and rain and hail lashing against the windows.

I'm not sure if Eddie in his hat and the big storm are related, but he does have some odd characteristics, so I wouldn't put it past him.   That hat does look fairly dangerous, it could easily have caused some sort of disturbance in the spacetime continuum.   And we all know the electrical mayhem that inevitably ensues when you mess with the spacetime continuum...

(see Back to the Future for details)

Anyway it's Friday night, it's been a long week, and my brain needs a break!

(this may have already been apparent...)  

Just to finish off, when I got home a few hours later, there was no sign of the storm.   It was still raining, but I was struck by how green the grass looked and how yellow the daffodils, despite the otherwise drabness of the day.

Nice, innit?

Day 103 - Bats and Bums

bats bum

I'm cheating just a little bit today.  To be honest with you (which I do try to be, even though I'm not entirely sure who you are, or why you're interested), I didn't actually take this photo.  But it was taken today, (by Anna) so I think it's close enough for jazz...

Speaking of which (ok, I know we weren't really speaking of jazz, but please bear with me on this, it could be worth it...), there's a saying amongst students of jazz, particularly those who play guitar;

"Whichever note you play, you're only 1 fret away from a good one."

For instance, if you are in the Key of C major (for simplicity's sake), then all of the notes are drawn from the C major scale, which consists of;

C D EF G A BC

The spaces represent the notes that sit between the scale tones.

The idea is that as a guitarist, if you just put your finger on any fret on any string and play the note, it won't always be one of the concordant, pleasant sounding notes.   Five of the twelve possible notes you can play will sound discordant, and unpleasant - the traditional "bum note".

Guitarists are very afraid of bum notes! 

But if you look at the spaces in the scale above, you'll notice that whichever one you pick, the note either side is "good" - it's a scale tone.

Practically, this means that if you hit a bum note, then you can immediately slide either up or down one fret, and the note you thus land on will be good. 

Psychologically, this can be quite a liberating trick.

Much of musical performance is in the mind, as is true of sports, and also climbing.

There's a formula that describes this quite succinctly (which, going by past record, is pretty much definitely more than I'm going to be able to manage...);

p = P - i

where p = performance, P = Potential, and i = interference. 

This is saying that your actual performance (musical, sporting or otherwise) will be equal to your best possible performance, minus anything that is preventing you from performing at your peak.  Much of this interference is internal - the voice in your head.

Your potential might be level ten, but your internal voice whispers in your ear about how it's that difficult bit coming up, or the lights are bright, or reminding you that there are lots of people watching, and essentially talks you down to performing at a level six.

The instinctive and most obvious approach to improving performance is to improve potential - if I train or practice so that my potential is now level eleven, then my performance could rise to a level seven! 

However, logic dictates that I could take a more subtle, effective approach - reduce the interference, and maybe perform at a level eight or nine - without improving my potential at all!

This little phrase functions in this way - it helps to quieten the anxious voice in your head that prevents the music from flowing properly...reducing interference, and consequently boosting performance.   It gives the player the confidence to take risks, to worry less about hitting a bum note, knowing there's always an easy escape route...

However, I actually prefer a more-accurate-but-marginally-more-cynical version of the phrase;

"Whichever note you play, you're only one fret away from another one!"


None of which helps this poor little dessicated bat.  He's a young pup, and was probably out learning to fly.  He ended up popping his clogs (with his backwards feet), probably as a result of losing his mother, or her failing him in some way, before he was old enough to support himself. 

And it seems like his grave (between the ceiling joists in a pub in Leicestershire) was nice and dry and ensured that he hasn't decayed since he died.

I did a bat survey at this pub with Anna last Summer (do you see what I did last Summer, again?), and once the bats started to emerge from the roost at around 10 in the evening, there was a steady stream of them leaving for quite a while.  We were trying to count them, and reckoned around 150 flew past us. 

That was my best bat survey experience...usually, they're a bit dull, to be honest...

Sorry, babe...but this one was good!

:-)

Day 102 - The Early Worm

gets eaten

I must apologise for the quality of the photo today...it was a quick shot taken at 7am this morning, with my phone, through the lounge window.

Although you can't see the bird from where you're sitting, in RealLife (tm) I could see that it was a beautiful Song Thrush, wrestling with a large, pale earthworm.  

How clichéd of it - I mean, I know it's a cute saying and all, but does it really want to encourage such specist(?!) stereotypes?

In any case, if the early bird gets the worm, then isn't it also true that the early worm gets brutally murdered and devoured, and not necessarily in that order...?  Why did you automatically side with the bird in that analogy?!!  

Who looks out for the worms, huh, did you ever think of that?!

Anyway, as it happened, I didn't have the camera handy, and I was wary of scaring the thrush off if I got up to go look for it, so I just grabbed some quick snaps on my trusty SGS3.

Worm sympathy aside, I'm so glad the thrush is here still, his (hers? Difficult to tell, let's go with his...) song on warm summer evenings is an absolute joy to behold.

In order to distribute his song as widely as possible, he usually picks a high vantage point for the evening's performance.  As we don't have tall trees in our garden, he'll happily sit on the highest available local perch, which is often in a low tree or high hedgerow. 

This means that we have a front row seat as he sings, and as they're not the most skittish of our local birds (that would be the jackdaw, I reckon), he seems to feel quite safe there...the music can be mesmerising!

Anyway, I will endeavour to broaden my subject matter for these photo's...but it's not easy, and I'm very busy all day, and I've got this lurgy (although I have antibiotics since visiting the doc's earlier), and there don't seem to be many photo opportunities except these!

I'm not complaining, mind...if the point is that I spent much of my time in nice, natural, green environments, amongst the flora and fauna, then oh, woe is me, how did life get so hard?!

How well does sarcasm work on here?  Because that was sarcasm...we're clear on that, right?

Day 101 - Restless Tides

purple with shiny bits

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun.
And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides.
That it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered.

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth reclaims your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

Kahlil Gibran


This small jar of nail varnish belonged to my big sister, Debs. 

Debs died of (complications arising from) breast cancer 10 years ago, give or take a couple of months.  It wasn't a sudden death, and Debs had time to plan a little, and to make some final requests.  

One such request was that people should not wear black to her funeral.  Debs was a little flamboyant in her dress sense, and often dressed from head to foot in a single bright colour...orange and blue (with sequins and shiny stuff, natch) seemed to be common favourites. 

For her funeral, then, it must have seemed a wonderful opportunity to pull everyone else into the game, and so she insisted that everyone must wear something pink!

Being well known and much loved, Debs funeral was indeed very well attended by several hundred "mourners", and the packed-to-overflowing church was a sea of pink hats and shoes, pink scarves and socks, pink flowers, wreaths, bouquets and blouses...

For my part, I had nothing pink to wear(!), so I went and found Debs big box of nail varnish, always full of a whole rainbow of colours, and requisitioned a couple of jars. 

This purple jar for some reason reminded me of her at the time. 

I also took a jar of bright electric pink, and painted a single dot on the little finger nail of my left hand, as a symbol of my love and respect for her.

At the funeral, I (somehow) read the beautiful words above.   I'm not religious, but I do have strong spiritual tendencies.   I find these words immensely spiritual - they have a profound depth that makes me dizzy and brings tears to my eyes.

Struggling to hold myself together enough to cope with not only the intense grief of my loss, but also the raw, piercing beauty of these words was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do...and yet I remember being so happy and honoured to have the opportunity to read this aloud, at that time, to that audience.  

And equally, I remember being angry and upset when the Minister followed the reading with, "Well, of course, he didn't really mean that your soul goes straight to God, because as we know, the only way to God is through Jesus Christ, our saviour...".

I wanted to get up and shout, "No, has it occurred to you that he said what he meant, and meant what he said?!   We are free to commune directly with God, no intermediary is required!"...

But of course, it was Debs funeral, and otherwise much more pink and upbeat than you'd generally expect...so, I bit my tongue, and swallowed my pride, and let it go, as I felt Debs would prefer. 

Anyway, for several years afterwards, on the anniversary of her death, or on her birthday, I wore the same bright pink dot on my pinky finger nail. 

Sadly I eventually lost the jar (I think it's in a box or a drawer somewhere), but the purple jar sits on my desk to this day.

This morning, reading a sad obituary of a climbing legend who has just died, I came across these words again, and it all came flooding back.

So Debs is on my mind again...10 years...where did it go?  I can't believe it's ten years since I last spoke to her...since that conversation, a couple of days before she died, when she needed me to tell her that it was ok for her to let go now...

So much has happened that I wish Debs could have seen, that I'd love to tell her about. 

Perhaps I will tell her myself, one day, when I melt into the sun, and truly dance...


For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun.
And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides.

That it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered.

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth reclaims your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

Kahlil Gibran

Day 100 - Day 100!

100!

Today's mission?  To remember to finish off yesterday's story, and not leave you completely hanging, as I inadvertently did last night...sorry about that, it was late, and a long, busy day (as I failed to fully explain last night).

But first;

100 Days!

Woohoo!

I can't believe I made it this far...when I find time, I shall read back through it all and find out Who I Am!

There have been contenders for best story, best photo, worst post, most popular post, and of course (who could forget?) best cow shot.

There have been pictures of cats, dogs, cats and dogs, bats and birds, various weather phenomena (not snow, of course), odd perspectives, and lots of red stuff. 

There's been me, Anna, my mum, Kim and Roob, Noah and 'Tembie. 

But there's only been one 100th post, folks, and this is it, so make the most of it!

B-)

Anyway, to finish up last night's saga...

When the car crash happened, I'd been about to get over to Birmingham to collect my friend Matt, who was coming to stay with us for a few days.   Not only did the aftermath of the crash delay me, but then the road was blocked when I needed to go...I had to take a 15 minute detour around 5 miles or so of winding country lanes, just to get the other side of the accident!

So I was late getting over to Birmingham, but still arrived back home by around 8.30pm. 

We had some dinner and chatted, but Matt, who's not been very well, was clearly struggling.  By about 10.30, it was clear that he needed to be at home, in his cave.  I completely understand how critical this can be (being a bloke myself and all), so I drove him back home again. 

Consequently, it was gone 12.30am by the time I finally parked up for the night, and I still needed to shower and blog...hence proof-reading poorly and forgetting where my story had been going...

I think I'm equally tired tonight, but in addition everything hurts...not only do I have some significant muscle soreness from climbing yesterday, but also my holiday lurgy is back with a vengeance...

So (to quote one of my favourite tag lines), ya know, yay!

Day 99 - Car Crash

yep that'll do it

Over the last week or so, I've on several occasions flippantly referred to a metaphorical car crash.   Today, the Universe decided to repay my flippancy by involving me peripherally with an actual car crash...and as if to close the loop, this led directly to the rest of my day becoming a metaphorical car crash!

Hence me sitting here at 00.45am just starting my blog, whilst knowing that I have to be in work early in the morning too...like I said, bit of a car crash!

We'd been out for most of the day.

In the morning we visited Kim and Roob.  It was good to see them, catch up with the latest news on their house, share hints and tips on photography, which we're all dabbling in to one degree or another, it seems. 

Anna and I then drove up to Loughborough to spend the afternoon at our favourite bouldering centre.  We climbed quite well overall, but found ourselves tiring quickly, and generally running out of steam after around 3 hours, which is an hour or two less than we usually manage.   But still, it was good to get a session in, having not had a hard climb since we were in Spain a couple of weeks ago. 

We arrived home around 5ish and took Jazz for a stroll down the lane more or less straight away.   His limping has been less pronounced for the last few days, which is quite a relief after the state he was in last weekend.   But still, we didn't take him too far, wary of exacerbating whatever condition he has. 

As we arrived back at the house, we heard a mild screeching of tyres up the road, followed by a low thud.  I looked at Anna questioningly...did that sound a bit like a car crash?!   They're not uncommon on the little winding stretch of road that passes our house...

I went up to the main road to have a look, but couldn't see anything round the bend 50m away.  Looking for a better vantage point, I thought I could see stationary tail lights just around the bend, so ran up to see if I could assist.

Sure enough, rounding the bend I came across a car on its side, and several cars parked up and down the road around it, having stopped to help.

The drivers door was open, up in the air, and three men were gathered around the car, looking into the passenger compartment.   It was clear that someone was in the car. 

My climbing skills (and the fact that I was warmed up from an afternoons climbing) came in very handy over the next few minutes.

I quickly climbed the underside of the car and looked down into the passenger compartment.   A middle aged couple (perhaps a bit older than me) were in a bit of a heap on the floor...or more accurately, on the broken passenger side window.   The man was struggling to his feet and starting to climb out of the top, so I helped him up onto the outside of the rear door.   

It was immediately clear that as well as being fairly large (around my height but heavier) he was also, in fact, very drunk.    I managed to help him into a sitting position on the side of the car, and I stepped down to the ground, gently pulling him with me, until he started to slide off the side.   As his weight started to fall I basically caught him and lowered him to the ground, none the worse for wear. 

I hopped back up to find the woman now standing inside the car, also inebriated.

Conveniently, all afternoon I'd been carefully down-climbing all the problems I did at the bouldering centre. Most people don't bother, but I've been quite diligent about it for a while now, and I'm starting to become fairly proficient.  

So it seemed oddly karmic (or something), when I manoeuvred higher so I could lean down and support the woman as she clambered inelegantly out of the top of the car, and was then faced with one final down-climb of the day...without hesitation, I simply picked her up and easily descended the couple of steps down to the floor, where I gently put her down.

It was immensely satisfying to discover that my recent efforts to get into shape through (and for) climbing hasn't been in vain, as it was remarkably easy to help these two unfortunate, silly, uncoordinated - and by no means small - people out of the mess they'd gotten themselves into.  

I felt completely strong and controlled (and thus, confident), and I'd like to think this helped make the situation less traumatic for those directly involved. 

Yay climbing and the functional strength it brings!

Also, here's another large pheasant, this time strutting his stuff confidently through our garden, and again much less skittish than usual. 

What is going on with these birds?!

cocky cock pheasant

Day 98 - Peacekeepers

chill, cat...

We went on a photography course today.  It was a basic introduction to DSLR cameras, which seems a little inappropriate, as we don't have one...

Anna does have a really nice Compact DSLR (which isn't actually a DSLR), though.   Still, it has the same functions, and of course the same principles of photography apply regardless of type of camera.  So we learned some useful stuff about f-stops and shutter speeds, focal length and aperture size.  I'd go so far as to say that it was worth getting up at the usual work time on a Saturday morning for!

At home this afternoon, I spent half an hour messing around, erm I mean practising, of course, with various settings, and trying to get photo's with a narrow depth of field.  In other words, trying to get the subject in focus and everything else blurred to some degree. 

Some sort of annoying software malfunction on Anna's camera causes it to use ridiculously slow shutter speeds inappropriately, which was a bit of a challenge, but I managed two or three reasonably nice shots.

cat chilled...

In the process of taking these pictures, I realised that Jazz and Loz are increasingly becoming buddies.  More and more, I find them together, in the kitchen, or on the sofa, or wherever, usually around a metre or so apart.  I think they've started to find some comfort and safety in each others company.

(I also just realised how they're both in a couple of previous blog photo's...)

There's an interesting theory about calming signals, which says that dogs send out body language messages all the time, to others around them.  The purpose of these signals is to encourage calmness in other dogs, humans, or in this case cats, often by doing things that display a calmness in the signaller.  Dogs will yawn, or slowly close their eyes (cats do this too), or look away casually, or a whole range of other behaviours.

In the top photo, you can see that Loz is in Alert mode.   This is a critical stage of the Predation Process, which goes something like;

Scan, Alert, Target, Stalk, Chase, Bite, Kill.

Loz may even be in Target mode, if she's spotted potential prey over in the hedgerow. 

Consequently, Jazz is looking in the same direction, but with soft eyes, no tension in his face, and ears back.  These are clear signals to Loz to calm down, to resist conflict.

In the next photo, Loz has responded to Jazz's calm energy by coming out of Alert mode - in fact, by dropping out of the Predation Process altogether - and going back to eating grass. 

Jazz agrees with this by politely looking away, still no tension in his face.

And so an easy peace is maintained, despite no physical interaction whatsoever, and without either of them even looking at each other!

We humans could learn a thing or two about keeping the peace, from dogs. 

Funnily enough, cats are very different.  If Jazz is too excited, Loz has her own fairly blunt signal that Jazz should calm down immediately - she just gets into his space, fixes him with an intimidating stare, and then swipes his flanks with her claws!

We humans could learn a thing or two about not keeping the peace very effectively from cats....or Americans...

Ooh, miaow!

In other news, here's a daffodil, all nicely focussed and whatnot. 

Day 97 - Brave New Breed

handsome chap

I think I'm becoming a bit of a geek, and I blame Anna. 

Before Anna came along I wasn't a geek, I'm sure.  I was cool, wasn't I?  Anyone?

Kim would have to admit that I was a cool dad, definitely... ;-)

But then Anna came along and started telling me the Latin names for everything, and understanding evolution, and being a scientist and whatnot (at least in terms of thinking like one).

Now that's all fair enough, and puts her firmly in the geek camp.

But then she starts telling me (she'd say "pointing out") that I'm a geek too...just because I can build and fix computers, and understand evolution a bit too, and I play computer games, and think like a scientist (or at least, I demand solid logic and reason in my thought processes).

But I wasn't a geek - I was cool!   I'm sure of it...wasn't I?

Now I find myself taking photo's of birds all the time, and increasingly pondering the natural world and how it works, and I'm starting to feel a bit geeky. 

Today, I paid a visit to some friends up in Nottinghamshire.   They live in a lovely house with a large, rural garden, backing onto open fields, much like we do. 

Whilst sitting in the kitchen nattering over a cup of tea, I heard the distinctive cabble (somewhere between a cackle and a gobble) of a pheasant .  I asked if there was any remote chance of getting out to take a photo without scaring him off, to which I was told that he's quite tame!

So I followed him out into the garden, and found him up around the other side of a small outhouse. 

He was a handsome and proud fellow, puffing himself up and strutting about confidently, clearly in search of a good time. 

Earlier, I'd made friends with this absolutely beautiful cat name Bob (looks a bit like a bob cat, and was incorrectly identified as male, initially), and as I approached the pheasant, Bob saw me and came running over to say hello.  

Bob (the) cat

The pheasant, whilst apparently not too concerned about Bob either, nevertheless wouldn't let us approach too near, and used a strategy of moving away at whatever speed I moved towards him.

Sliding smoothly back into geek mode, this seems curiously at odds with the skittishness of the pigeon from the other day.   Pheasants generally seem fairly stupid - often their response to the sight of a predator is to flap noisily into the air, stridently squawking, and thereby drawing the full attention of said predator, who up to this point had been completely unaware of the presence of the bird. 

Yet this pheasant today seemed calm and confident.  Is he just an aberrant individual, who will someday be eaten by a fox or hit by a car that he didn't flee from?  Or is he a smart pheasant, who's learned a useful and efficient strategy for avoiding predation?

Could he be the first of a new breed of clever, proud pheasants?!

You see, geeky rambling - definitely Anna's fault. 

Anyway, there followed a somewhat comedic episode, as I slowly chased the pheasant around the outhouse, trying to get a good view, and a bit closer, whilst the cat chased me around the outhouse, miaowing demandingly for attention.

What with trying to catch the pheasant, whilst trying to shake the cat, and being completely unable to see anything on the screen of my phone, I was lucky to get anything at all.

But still, I got one or two nice pics, and a little story to tell for my blog...and it wouldn't have happened had it not been for trying to get a photo for the blog.  

So, ya know, that works out well.  

love me, minion!

Day 96 - Fingerboard, Make Strong

maker of beasts

I'm quite into climbing...did I ever mention that?

As the year progresses, this is going to lead to some brilliant photo opportunities.

One of the most rewarding aspects of rock climbing is that it takes you to some amazing places where you'd never otherwise go...and once at these amazing places, it opens up incredible perspectives which you'd never otherwise experience. 

Imagine sitting on a ledge, 25m up a sheer rock face that juts out of the top of a hill, overlooking a green valley below.   There's something about all that space that opens the mind and feeds the spirit.  It's breathtaking, and you can't experience it without taking some risks and expending some significant physical energy.  

But the relatively high price, paid in commitment, determination and strenuous exertion, simply serves to make the moment more valuable.  

Over the last year, I've sat in such positions with a raven hovering in the breeze a few feet over my head.  

I've looked down on hunting hawks and kestrels, and even the Red Arrows...Anna even had the dubious excitement of being buzzed by a Red Arrow, which banked across the rock face no more than 30m away from her, as it flashed by in a cacophony of screaming jet engine - just as she was in the middle of a sketchy Trad lead!

It's not just the view, either.  I've squeezed through a hole in a pile of boulders, which the guidebook assures me is passable, whilst wondering nervously whether it's still passable with big shoulders, inflexible hips, and around half a ton (give or take) of climbing gear strapped around my waist...

Anna was caught in a deluge when about to attempt a tricky, committing crux move (i.e. the hard bit), forcing her to undertake a nerve wracking (but ultimately brilliant) down-climb in the pouring rain.

I found myself thrutching (also known as udging (or did I just make that up?!)) my way up inside a wide, dark, dank chimney of rock, painfully jammed against opposite sides, nothing to stand on, desperately tired, and having no choice but to push on upwards.  The down-climb seemed impossible, so wasn't an option...there was no possibility of putting any protection in to catch me if I fell, or even to rest on...I knew that if I fell, I was going to fall a long way, hit the rock hard, tumble and probably break something.  Not only that, but Anna would be yanked up into the air and into the rock.   My only option was to keep inching upwards towards a hole in the roof, through which the bright daylight promised relief and salvation, albeit seemingly distant relief and salvation. 

I guess that doesn't sound like such a great time...but it has fantastic Type 2 Fun value. 

(TL;DR - Type 2 Fun - not fun at the time, but fun to reflect on and talk about afterwards...)

So I guess you're wondering what any of this has to do with the photo.  Well, the point is, all of that good stuff lies ahead of us, once the weather improves. 

In the meantime, all I've got is this crappy photo of our Beastmaker finger-board...

We have this mounted above the door in the lounge (I know, nice touch, huh?).   It's for exercising the fingers.  The various slots take two, three or four fingers, to a variety of depths (primarily one or two finger joints), and the idea is to simply hang off them, to develop finger strength for climbing.  

There are a whole load of exercise regimes that can be performed with them...but we just do pull ups on them now and then when we remember or can be bothered.  I suppose we're not that committed...but the intent is there!

Anyway (in theory), we use this exercise tool in order to be strong enough to go out and get into desperate situations, which would be much less stressful if we were just a bit stronger...

Hmm, I think I just blew my own mind!!

Fingerboard, make strong!  Yet still too weak, so get in adventures!

I'm sure there's a nugget of sense in there somewhere, but it's a bit fuzzy and elusive.

Ho hum...

Oh, wait a minute, perhaps there isn't a nugget of sense in there somewhere...

B-)