Just a few short weeks ago (what a stupid phrase that is. How can weeks be short?) I was constantly looking upwards, begging the rain to stop.<\/p>\n
Now I’m gazing skywards, silently pleading for the dry weather to break.<\/p>\n
The ground, in case you haven’t noticed, is as hard as concrete.<\/p>\n
There is, as farmers and landowners will also admit, no pleasing some folk. The ground is too hard\/the ground is too soft.<\/p>\n
I can count the number of days, this year, that the ground has been ‘just right’, and I can count them on the fingers of one hand.<\/p>\n
Tom is due to run in a BE100 (formerly ‘Pre-Novice’ – or Pre-Nervous to be more accurate), at Broadway on Saturday.<\/p>\n
Yep, that’s why I’m moaning about the weather; I would like the ground to be ‘just right’, for the weekend.<\/p>\n
The weather apart, the seasonal changes are making a big impact in other ways.<\/p>\n
The hedges in the lanes are overflowing with colour and blossom, and a large number of gardens are broadcasting pleasant odours, scents that have been hidden from us, all winter.<\/p>\n
I’m not just seeing changes in the flaura and fauna.<\/p>\n
Wood-pigeons.<\/p>\n
They’re everywhere.<\/p>\n
Accompanied by their almost ever-present ‘Prr-proooo, prr-proooo’ cooing, they flutter down from the highpoints of trees, or glide in from neighbouring hedges, and perch on the post-and-rail fencing around the outdoor arena…<\/p>\n
And scare the living daylights out of Tom.<\/p>\n
The poor horse, he’s almost had several heart-attacks in the last few days.<\/p>\n
We have been working – very hard – on improving our dressage score in the outdoor.<\/p>\n
We would be heads down, deep in concentration, when suddenly a small squadron of the little darlings would zoom in, execute a barrel-roll, a triple-toe loop, a double Salko, a half-forward roll with double-twist and pike, and finish their aerobatic display with a perfectly formed Immelman, before landing in a high-speed scrabbling clutter of feathers – on top of the fencepost that Tom and I are about to pass.<\/p>\n
Tom, being a sensitive soul, doesn’t take too kindly to this aerial activity.<\/p>\n
His first inclination, on being startled by these feathered rats, is to leave the county – and, frankly, he’s not terribly fussy if I go with him or stay behind.<\/p>\n
Bearing in mind that horses, by evolution, are not brave animals – in fact, their primary instinct (after eating, sleeping, drinking, pooing reproducing and weeing – and not always in that order, obv) is to get away as fast as a very fast thing driving a Ferrari on an empty motorway. Without speed cameras.<\/p>\n
Where was I?<\/p>\n
Oh yes, so bearing in mind that it is in their nature to run liked greased weasel-shit at the first sign of something scary, how do I persuade Tom that the feathered Douglas Bader-wannabees can be safely ignored?<\/p>\n
I can try and work him through it, as any half-decent equestrian would helpfully suggest.<\/p>\n
Helpfully suggest without actually offering to sit on the 17-hand, snorting, straining, sinew-popping, eye-bulging, panic-induced monster.<\/p>\n
Believe me, I have tried working him through it.<\/p>\n
The sheer proximity and lack of consideration of the Sopwith Pigeons makes ‘working through it’ impossible.<\/p>\n
This morning I had an idea.<\/p>\n
Ting!<\/p>\n
I have a cunning plan.<\/p>\n
Well yes, it does involve me buying a shotgun, sitting underneath the trees in the evening (feeding time!) and waiting for the flying rats to get close enough for me to introduce them to an early demise.<\/p>\n
But at least my cunning plan has a definite strategy behind it.<\/p>\n
What do you think?<\/p>\n
Is Woodpigeonocide a legitimate *moral* act? Yes, I do know that it is a legal one, but is it an ethical behaviour?<\/p>\n
Or are the ethics police going to come and get me?<\/p>\n
That’s ‘ethics’, not ‘Essex’ which is, of course, a county between London and Thuffolk.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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