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Thread: The Rhythm of life

  1. #1

    The Rhythm of life

    It's the month of June and summer has come to the glen,after an non existent spring new life is moving at a frantic pace
    The burn running through the glen is now a babbling brook ,patches of light playing on the surface where sunlight filters through the overhead canopy, it's hard to believe that just a few short weeks ago this same burn was a raging torrent dark peat stained water topped by foam where it battered
    of the rocks so that it resembled Guinness.

    Today a pair of dippers are diving from a stone in the burn urgently searching for food to feed their growing family in a nest tucked under the bank of the burn.

    Along the glen bottom most of the trees are now in full leaf apart from some oaks which are only showing green buds, the Rowan's are a mass of white flowers and and here and there still an odd Gean (wild cherry) with remnants of blossom though this is very late but this has not been a normal year.

    Under the trees there are still a few wild primroses in bloom and the white lilac veined flowers
    of wood-sorrel are prolific.

    Above the tree line the new soft green heads of bracken are unfurling from the red-brown carpet of last years growth, from the same carpet bright blue drifts of wild hyacinth.

    Leaving the glen we travel up a smaller burn heading for the hill proper, we have not long left the tree line when we startle and old cock Grouse his hen now doubt sitting tight on a nest near by, before long we arrive at the old shieling we are ready for a rest and this is as good a place to spy from as any.

    A shieling was a place where in days gone by the women and children would spend the summer months with the cattle while the men folk stayed at home and tended the croft, here the women would make butter and cheese , as this burn is known locally as the whisky burn one suspects that maybe more than butter was made at this shieling.

    High on the opposite hill face there is still a patch of snow,but it is becoming smaller each day.

    Further down the face neither on the high tops nor in the glen bottom but around
    the mid way point is a large corrie this is the place where many of the hinds in the glen give birth.

    This is what we have come to look for though there are no youngsters to be seen this day.

    There is a large group of hinds on the lip of the corrie the majority of which are obviously heavily pregnant, but none that look as if they have recently given birth.

    It appears that we are too early but any day now the first calf will be born, with the birth rate peaking mid month.

    Soon the glen will be home to a new generation,such is the rhythm of life.
    Last edited by bogtrotter; 04-06-2013 at 16:12.

  2. #2
    Well Bogtrotter, another nice piece of writting from you. And again another eye opener as to how that has come from the person I have known for a very long time. Chalk and cheese comes to mind. I also think that the majority that know you would be pleasantly surprised as well. At this point I am sitting with the foot up in Large bandage after an operation last week. She who must be obeyed is standing over me making sure I get more of the bbok done!!! I think we just mellow with older age. Keep it up and will catch up with you somewhere soon I hope...John
    Stalking and Courses
    BASC Approved Trainer & Assessor. Cairngorm National Park Authority Approved Supplier. Supported by Sauer Arms
    See you at Kelso, Scone & Moy 2016

  3. #3
    Regular Poster
    Join Date
    Mar 2012
    Nice one thanks Bogtrotter. I'm sitting in town missing home now. Reminds me also of Mike Tomkies' writing. I sometimes phone up home and ask what's going on out of the window and it sounds a bit like that. Also brings to mind Rabbie's poem I often think of. You'll of all heard it before but a bit of gratuitous repetition won't hurt:

    My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
    My heart's in the Highlands a chasing the deer;
    Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe -
    My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
    Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
    The birth-place of valour, the country of worth;
    Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
    The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

    Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow;
    Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
    Farewell to the forests and wild hanging woods;
    Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
    My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
    My heart's in the Highlands a chasing the deer;
    Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe -
    My heart's in the Highlands, whereever I go.

  4. #4
    'Writting', 'Writting' ? I just cant leave him unattended for five minutes....

    Really enjoy BTs notes however - both for and of themselves and because it is such a great, if gentle reminder that there is more to the countryside than 'just' pursuit.
    Stalking and Courses
    BASC Approved Trainer & Assessor. Cairngorm National Park Authority Approved Supplier. Supported by Sauer Arms
    See you at Kelso, Scone & Moy 2016

  5. #5
    Great stuff and keep it coming please as we could do with more considered prose that capture both the subtle and less so nuances of what we do when not making a damn nuisance or arse of ourselves on here.

    Far, far too much trivia concerning group, bore, knife, press, objective and knob size if you ask me!


    Last edited by Klenchblaize; 04-06-2013 at 17:18.

  6. #6
    A lovely read BT - thanks for posting


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