Squirrels

A Very Peaceful Walk

~ beetleypete ~ 65 Comments

With the temperature set to hit an uncomfortably humid 29C here later today, I decided an early walk for Ollie would be in order. Leaving the house just after 10am, it was already 22C, but there was a pleasant breeze over on Beetley Meadows.

There was nobody else in sight. No kids enjoying the playground or playing on the basketball court, and no other dog-walkers around either

Ollie had lots to do, checking out the markings left by the ‘very early’ gang of dog-walkers, who are usually over there before 7am. I headed for the river, and on the way I saw lots of bees on all the flowers and flowering shrubs.

I stood in the shade at the river bend, waiting for Ollie to catch me up after his sniffing and marking.

The breeze was causing the leaves to rustle in the trees, with some of the smaller leaves detaching and floating gently down to land on the surface of the river. Neon-blue Damselflies were very active there. Hovering down onto the edge of the river, touching the water briefly, and flying off again. They look more like tiny robots than insects, their movement reminiscent of drones.

Ollie strode into the river to cool off and have a big drink. His presence disturbed some good-sized fish, probably Trout, and I watched them through the clear water as they swam away. Then we took the riverside path, the Stinging Nettles on either side now grown to the height of my shoulders.

By the time we got back to the woodland area the breeze had dropped and it was getting much warmer, so the cool shade was most welcome. Squirrels scampered up trees as we walked through, and a large Muntjac deer ran under the bracken ahead of us, making its unusual ‘barking’ noise, presumably to warn other deer nearby. Ollie was too hot by now to bother with squirrels or deer, so we completed the circular walk and headed home.

Ninety minutes of pure countryside peace and quiet. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Squirrels In The Garden

~ beetleypete ~ 89 Comments

Despite having large Oak trees front and back, we never had any squirrels visiting our garden. For nine years there were only birds seen on the grass, or on the shrubs. I used to think it was because of Ollie, and that he might have chased them away. Then next door got Alfie Cat, and he was often seen prowling under our large hedges.

There were many squirrels to be seen nearby on Beetley Meadows, so I wondered if they were reluctant to cross the road to our house, though it is hardly a ‘busy’ road.

Then one day recently, Julie spotted one sitting in the garden, eating a chunk of bread I had thrown out for the birds. He/she started to visit on a daily basis, so Julie bought some peanuts in shells for him/her.

When the squirrel started to sit on the fence separating our garden from our neighbour’s, the lady who lives next door went out and bought squirrel food. She placed it in small pots on top of the fence posts, and watched as the squirrel enjoyed a feast.

Recently, I began to leave a dish of bird seed out on a small garden table. That proved to be a big hit with the birds, and increased the numbers visiting our garden. Then I saw another squirrel picking up seeds that had fallen onto the grass and eating them, at the same time as the original (larger) squirrel was eating more bread six feet away.

Yesterday, a third squirrel appeared, and we had three feeding at the same time.

I have no way of knowing if the first two are a pair, and the new arrival a youngster they have reared. They could be unrelated, just taking advantage of the easy pickings.

But it is nice to finally have squirrels in the garden.

Ollie and the White-Tailed Deer

~ beetleypete ~ 65 Comments

It was bright and cold yesterday afternoon, with snow forecast for later. So I took Ollie out a little earlier, hoping to avoid any bad weather. Deciding on a longer walk, I headed off to the woods around the Village Hall. I know there will be squirrels there, lots of them, so Ollie will be able to chase them to his heart’s content. Sure enough, the place was full of the greys, and they nonchalantly scampered up trees just before my excited dog got too close.

Out on the playing fields by the hall, he got to run around with a young black Labrador for a while, and I was pleased to see his enthusiasm for play, albeit briefly. But he was soon heading back for the woodland, and the prospect of more fluffy-tailed squirrels to chase. They were there again, probably the same ones. After more of the same fruitless chasing, he was getting hot and bothered. As there is no water near that area, I decided to return to Beetley Meadows, and let him cool off in the river. I took the short cut through the wooded path leading from Green Lane.

Halfway down, I spotted a large deer moving around in the bushes, surprisingly close to the main path. It was well-camouflaged, but I heard it rustling in the bracken, and soon spotted it. Ollie came trotting along, and I noticed that he seemed to have no idea the deer was there. No doubt the animal had cleverly positioned itself not to give off a scent, as Ollie can usually smell them a long way off. But as Ollie drew level with me, the deer unwisely flicked its hairy white tail, and that was it.

Having spotted the bright white movement in the green and brown undergrowth, Ollie was off like a bullet. No amount of calling or whistling from me was about to make him give up the chase. The deer was remarkably nonchalant. Bouncing away, apparently unconcerned, it shot me a farewell glance, and carried on in the direction of the fenced-off private land less than 100 feet away. It cleared the fence as if it wasn’t even there, leaving Ollie to apply the canine equivalent of an emergency stop, in case he went straight into the stout woodwork. Having lost sight of his quarry, he started to trot up and down the length of the fence, sniffing intently. It took some time for him to give up.

The sudden appearance of the familiar Golden Retriever, Buddy, gave him something else to think about. I took him down to the river, where he walked in to cool off, and enjoy a long drink.

I was left wondering why nature gave Fallow Deer that white tail. Without it, they would be almost undetectable.

Autumn comes to Beetley

~ beetleypete ~ 9 Comments

Despite the unseasonal weather, (it was 24 C here today) it is more than obvious that Autumn has arrived. I spent a fair amount of time this week collecting the first fall of leaves and twigs from the oaks, as well as attempting to shift some of the many acorns. Another good few hours were spent trimming the leylandii hedges that shelter two sides of the garden. I had neglected them last year, and paid the penalty for this, with hard work. Standing some ten feet high, and almost five feet deep, this is not a job to be tackled lightly, or in bad weather. Most of the difficult bits have to be got at from the top rung of a ladder, with almost all of my body at full stretch, perched precariously on the bulk of the hedge, as I reach across. The thickest branches had to be dealt with by sawing, and each remainder would have made an acceptable Christmas Tree, for an average room. The unexpectedly good weather allowed me to get on with this job, which I could no longer put off. The end result is a satisfyingly neat double row of hedge, and more light allowed into the gardens of the neighbouring houses. I also have the scars to show battle was done, with marks from twigs, the strange redness of an allergic reaction to the pine needles, and muscles aching all over my legs and wrists.

It is getting foggy in the mornings, and dark earlier. By 7.30 in the evening, our lights are on, and by 8, it is completely black outside. The fields nearby are being ploughed, and at times the smell of the manure, and other fertilisers, is all-pervasive between here and Dereham. The leaves are turning; gold before brown, some pale and lifeless. Walking with Ollie today in the afternoon heat, we wandered in the direction of Gingerbread Corner. The vast acres of blackcurrant bushes have now been harvested; the fruit that was rejected by the farmer now fought over by hundreds of starlings. They in turn are mobbed by dozens of crows, swooping down from high nests in the Poplars lining the Holt Road, their cry of ‘caw-caw’ building to an unpleasant cacophony. Squirrels are much in evidence, rapidly gathering nuts to store against the coming winter. So many are scurrying around, Ollie is unsure which one to chase first, and just stands and cries in frustration.

Once at the plum orchards, lack of rainfall, and the cessation of watering by the farmer, shows in the remaining crop. This time of year normally sees many unpicked plums still hanging in plump clusters on the short trees. Today, all that was visible were hundreds of shrivelled and blackened fruits, dehydrated and dead on their stalks. A little further on, there is a pleasant area left fallow this year, home to attractive wildflowers, and recently, scores of sunflowers; not cultivated, just growing randomly. Their huge yellow heads, with the dark centres of seeds, helped to brighten a familiar walk. On inspection this afternoon, they have lost petals, the seeds are dry, and the heads are beginning to droop down, as if the flower is sad, or unwell.

This summer of mixed blessings will soon be just a memory. Clear nights, cold winds from the north, Halloween, Bonfire Night, and other seasonal festivities will replace the joy of light evenings, and wide-open windows. Autumn is here.

Ollie’s first rabbit

~ beetleypete ~ 19 Comments

When I am out with Ollie, he likes to chase things. Other dogs of course, as well as cats, deer, pigeons, pheasants, and even ducks in the river. Squirrels are a difficult option, as they rush up trees, leaving him frustrated, looking skywards into the branches. On the beach, large seagulls seem to be fair game; but they always fly off as he arrives, only to land tantalisingly, a few feet further on. It always seems to delight him, even though he never catches anything. Watching him do this for almost two years, it always seemed to me, and to other onlookers, that his sole intention was to play with whatever he was chasing. His demeanour was happy, and his body language playful, never threatening.

Over on Beetley Meadows, there are lots of rabbits. On quiet days, or late in the afternoon, they summon up the courage to leave their burrows, and can be seen on the grass, enjoying a feed, or running around in the sunshine. Locals tell me that these rabbits are infected with myxomatosis, and it remains in the rabbit community here, due to inbreeding. I have seen the occasional dead rabbit, but have no idea if this disease was the cause of its demise. For Ollie, the sight of their fluffy white feet, or their ears protruding above the long grass, is a signal to chase. He will tear after them at breakneck speed, paws pounding on the turf. He is never quick enough though, and they always escape into their warren, or seek shelter inside some unusually thick brambles, or inaccessible undergrowth. Ollie is left to run around crying, as if lamenting the loss some good playtime.

If he has no other dogs to romp around with, I will take him into the area where they live, and suggest that he search for ‘Bunnies’. He doesn’t seem to understand ‘Rabbits’, though he certainly recognises the word ‘Squirrels’. His preferred command is ‘Bun-Bun’, something that pricks up his ears when heard, and sets him off investigating the normal rabbit haunts. This affords a diversion on his walk, and kills some time when he is bored, in the absence of other dog playmates. Occasionally, he will flush one from the long grass, but the turn of speed that it musters, and the possibility of a considerable hop, guarantees that the bunny will find sanctuary before Ollie gets to it.

Yesterday afternoon, he had been walking around with two of his friends, Toby the Jack Russell and Bruno the Pug. They left, and towards the end of our time out, we were at the far end of the Meadows, near the junction with River View. In the middle of the cut grass, is a large area of grass and weeds left in a natural state, forming a substantial square. Ollie suddenly took off in this direction, breaking into a determined gallop. At first, I suspected he had detected the presence of another dog nearby, then I spotted what had caught his attention. A full-size rabbit was sitting at the edge of the longer grass, apparently just relaxing. As Ollie drew nearer, it suddenly realised the folly of being in such an open area, and it obviously panicked. Instead of seeking shelter in the thick grass nearby, it ran the ‘wrong’ way, straight onto the open parkland, easily visible on the short grass. It was heading straight at Ollie.

At the last minute, the animal realised its mistake, and swerved violently. Ollie had to make an extreme twisting turn, skidding on the wet grass as he did so. The rabbit thought that a zig-zag manoeuvre would confuse the dog, but this only succeeded in slowing it down. I was running towards the pair, shouting for Ollie to leave him, but as the bunny got back into the long grass, Ollie caught his back leg. The piercing scream surprised both myself, and my dog. It seemed far too extreme for what was little more than a nip, so I must assume it was more from fear, than from pain. Ollie looked at me, confused. I suspect he thought that the rabbit would enjoy the game, and turn and run again. When he let go, on my command, it hopped into the grass, attracting Ollie once again. This time, he pounced onto it, and I saw his mouth begin to close around its abdomen. I shouted ‘no’, and he let go, looking at me with obvious frustration.

I went deeper into the undergrowth, looking to see if it was injured. I could see it creeping slowly away, some distance from me, so I didn’t get the chance to see if it was hurt. Reluctant to distress it further, I took Ollie home. He strutted with a proud gait on the trip back. He had finally caught his first rabbit.

A very quiet walk

~ beetleypete ~ 29 Comments

The routine of the beetleypete household has been disrupted of late. I am doing two weeks of Cycling Proficiency training at the local school, which means I have to go out with Ollie at different times. Regular readers may recall that my normal practice is to leave home around 2pm, and walk with the dog until at least 4.30, sometimes later in good weather. This week and last, I have had to split his walks, with the earlier start of 10am until 12, and a second walk from 3.30 until 4.30.

This may seem of little significance to you as a reader. But as a dog-walker, Beetley Meadows is a very different place, before midday. The majority of the locals have left for work, the children are at school, and most regular walkers do not appear until after 2pm. This fairly large area is completely deserted, apart from abundant bird life, some water-fowl, insects, and rabbits. Despite the heat, the grass is still wet, especially in the areas shaded by trees. With no extraneous sounds to disturb the air, the singing of birds is more noticeable than usual, as is their rustling in the high branches, or in the long undergrowth fringing the paths.

On the stretch running alongside the small river, we can even hear the sounds of fish, trying to take insects from the surface of the water. Ollie’s head snapping round, reacting to this rarely heard sound. A gentle breeze stirs the long grass, making a rushing sound, like the amplified swish of voluminous skirts. The whine and buzz of insects close to my neck warns me to keep up a steady pace, not allowing them time to bite. A large grey heron takes off some fifty yards ahead, the flapping of the wide wings clattering in the silence. On the lower tree branches, squirrels quarrel and chatter, sending small leaves floating gently down. At the bend of the river, by the picnic tables, children have made a small dam from stones. The water bubbles over it, at the point where it flows fastest.

Ollie, like many dogs, is a creature of habit. If he were human instead of canine, he might be diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder, perhaps even mild autism. He likes to approach the meadow in the same direction every time. He sniffs intently, scent-spraying where he considers it necessary. He negotiates the paths in the same fashion every time, zig-zagging from left to right, gently sniffing the extended tips of plants, examining every molehill. At certain places, he stops to violently paw the ground, leaving scars on the path; he is announcing his presence. When he gets close to the river, he accelerates, finally running in. Never too deep, just enough to be in control, but to get cool and take a drink at the same time. If the ducks are unlucky enough to have remained in range, he takes off after them. He probably knows he will never catch them, but is telling them that this is his territory, at least for a time.

He continues around the back path, remembering where he once saw a deer, and looking to see if it is still there, even though it was months ago. Last week, he chased a large squirrel up a tree, so he goes back to the base of that same tree every time, just in case. Arriving at the northern boundary of the meadows, the path runs close to the busy Fakenham Road. Ollie is scared of traffic, disturbed by the noise, and by being so close to the moving vehicles. However, this is also the site of one of the entrances, so frequented by many dogs. Even his fear of the road is not enough to overwhelm his desire to sniff every inch of the area.

A full circuit of Beetley River Meadows takes less than fifteen minutes to complete, at a reasonable walking pace. In a walk of almost two hours, it is easy to manage no less than eight circuits of the same area, allowing for brief pauses. For Ollie, each circuit is like the first. He takes off as if he has never seen the place before, just as excited to be going around again, as he was at 10am. For me, an element of boredom sets in. I know where to avoid all the nettles, and which areas of the shaded paths are still muddy. I walk past the deserted playground and football court for the umpteenth time, still noticing the discarded rubbish, abandoned despite the presence of a large litter-bin, in the shape of a friendly bear.

I have got the words of a song in my head, and it plays over and over. Despite trying to force it from my mind, it comes back time and again, until I fear it will drive me crazy. I think of things that I might write about, tasks I have to do later that day, and the cycling course to be supervised in the afternoon. But nothing takes the song away, so I try to listen to the sounds of nature instead. The starting of a motor-mower breaks the tranquility, and I can also hear the distant hum of high-flying military aircraft, visible only by vapour trails in the sky. I check my watch, 11.50. Time to head back.

A Winter walk

~ beetleypete ~ 17 Comments

It has been raining all day here, and the wind has been strong too. But Ollie still has to have his walk, so it was business as usual, at 2pm today. The sky had been the colour of a battleship since I woke up, and there was about as much light as you would get through the frosted glass of a bathroom window. I could hear the rain pattering off of the flat roofs, with the heaver drops, like the bass drum heard over the snares. This last December day seemed determined to remind us all that it was still Winter in Norfolk.

Luckily, a lot of the misery of dog-walking in the wet has been greatly reduced, by the arrival of Christmas gifts, courtesy of my thoughtful wife. As well as the previously mentioned American wellington boots, I was delighted to receive some Berghaus gloves, windproof, and water-resistant. Damp trousers are also banished, with the addition of North Face over-trousers, almost guaranteed to keep wet and wind away from from my legs. These bad boys unzip and un-pop all the way from the thigh, so it is easy to get boots on and off from underneath them. I even got a nice basic Timex watch, one that I can see easily, and with the benefit of a luminous face, for darker walks. This means I no longer have to worry about damaging the more expensive watch that I usually wear. I topped off the ensemble with my cheap but efficient waterproof cap, and we headed off into the torrential rain, that always gets worse around 2pm.

Ollie had been to the Vet again earlier, and we received bad news about his tail injury. It is still not healing. Despite keeping him quiet, and away from his dog playmates, any shaking, or running through long grass, is enough to re-open the wound. He has ten more days, to see if it heals properly, or we have to agree to amputation of the last inch or so of his tail. Despite these problems, and the weather, he was keen to get out, and run around as usual. After ten minutes striding, I realised that only my face was wet, so all the preparation with the new clothes had paid dividends, as far as keeping dry goes. The rain kept coming, and the areas next to the river, and through the woodland, were like quagmires. Mud was inches deep, and in some places, I needed my trusty wooden wading pole, to assist with balance.

We did not see many other walkers; no doubt put off by the bad weather, or having to journey to family and friends for the New Year celebrations. Those that were around sensibly kept their heads down, and I avoided the other dogs anyway, lest Ollie’s tail get caught in play. I noticed some large areas of bracken had been flattened, trampled into rough circle shapes. A sure sign that large deer had slept there overnight, confirmed by Ollie’s interest in sniffing those areas intently. The river was chocolate brown, and moving fast, swollen by recent rains, but thankfully not bursting its banks. Ollie searched for his friends; but finding none, he contented himself with squirrel-chasing, and constant sniffing. It was nice to be able to keep him off the lead for a while, as he hates having it on, and it has been necessary, since the tail incident. He was interested in some colourful Jays, but they ignored him, and there were no rabbits to be seen either.

Under the trees, the drumming of the larger raindrops grew tiring on my head, so I walked out into the playing fields instead. There were no children in the play park, and no boys playing football in the compound. By 3pm, Ollie and I were the only things visible on Beetley Meadows, and it was getting noticeably darker. I decided to head for home, as I had also noticed blood at the end of Ollie’s tail, a sure sign that he had caught it again. I was pleased to find myself completely dry, despite all the outerwear being soaked, and muddy. I towelled off the dog, and prepared him one of his favourite meals; fresh-cooked chicken livers, and mixed vegetables.

Tomorrow is the first day of another year in the world of dog-walking. Only 365 more walks to do, before 2015.

The Acorns are falling

~ beetleypete ~ 34 Comments

A sure sign that the season is changing, the sound of falling acorns is upon us in Beetley.

I should give some background, to make this all easier to picture. I could just post a lot of photos, but that would be far too easy. When we first viewed this house, one of the things we most liked about it, was the presence of two large oak trees. One is at the front of the property, and the other in the back garden. On a Google Earth viewing, they can easily be seen, dominating the comparatively small plot. As it is a bungalow, they do not intrude on the roof, and provide valuable shade, as well as an attractive ‘canopy’ over most of the property. They are both very old, perhaps over three hundred years or more, with the larger one in the garden, though the one at the front is a little higher. They also overhang three neighbouring houses, though they were not there when this bungalow was built, in 1979.

We were informed by the previous owner, that they are subject to a preservation order. They cannot be felled, or deliberately damaged, and any work carried out on them must be done by an approved arborist. This can be expensive, but only has to be done every five years or so, to keep the classic shape of the oak tree. The nearby houses also have to contribute to this, as the parts of the tree that overhang their properties are deemed to be their responsibility. The previous owner had lived here since 1987, and had undertaken extensive renovations, and improvements to the original bungalow. These included an extension at the rear, to enlarge the former kitchen into a comfortable kitchen/diner, and the building of a shed extension, immediately connected to the rear of the detached garage. This left us inheriting three flat roofs, the garage, shed, and kitchen. That was fine, as there was still plenty of space in the garden, as well as a good-sized patio. We bought the house in 2011, and though we could not move in at the time, we would come up for weekends and holidays.

Staying here for two weeks in September 2011, we first noticed the sound of the falling acorns. They are quite large things, and are naturally hard, the inner nut the size of a bullet, contained in a durable outer casing. The trees are around 40-50 feet to the top branches, so the farthest acorns can build up speed, as they plummet to the ground. Unfortunately, most do not make it to the softer grass, or surrounding borders. Instead, they hit the flat roofs, like a constant barrage of gunfire. Bird activity in the trees, or strong winds, can provoke an attack by hundreds of small hard projectiles within moments. If you happen to be outside, you will be showered by those missing the roofs, and others will be bouncing around, like ricocheting missiles. At night, the drumming of these things constantly falling can make it hard to sleep. Even if there is a lull, there will still be the occasional thud, as one strikes. I don’t know which is worse, the continuous pattering, or the intermittent thwacks.

After a good scattering, the lawn and outside areas have to be seen to be believed. Acorns, twigs, and bits of leaf can lay up to two inches deep everywhere. As you start to sweep them, the sheer size of the problem becomes apparent. A whole wheelie bin is filled in minutes, followed by bag after bag of nuts and shucks, which naturally, are still falling, even as you try to clear the first load. The amount of these things is incredible, and they just keep coming. The gutters are filled, and have to be cleared out every couple of days. The flower beds are inundated, and they have to be cleared as well, or we will end up with hundreds of small oak trees. The flat roofs have a crunchy topping of fresh acorn, but it is hardly worth trying to shift them, as they will eventually dry out, and do no harm up there. It is a necessary but time-consuming job, that becomes boring, very quickly. When they are not hitting the flat roofs, they are striking the main sloping roof, bouncing down the tiles like the ball in a pinball machine. They didn’t tell us about the acorns. Oh no.

Some suggest that it would be a good idea to ‘import’ squirrels, in the hope that they would eat them all. Despite being portrayed clutching acorns, it seems that squirrels do not actually eat them. In fact, the only animal that can eat, and digest, these hard kernels, is a pig. Pigs naturally forage in woodland, and have developed a taste for acorns over the centuries. However, despite the presence nearby of hundreds of farmed pigs, they are not allowed to eat our acorns. EU rules are strict, when it comes to the diet of animals for human consumption, so I am not able to drive my bags of nuts over to the pig farm, and tip them into the food hoppers. They go for composting, (hopefully) removed in Council vehicles, or by me in the car, to the local dump. The carbon footprint of the humble acorn is greater than my own.

It will be the leaves next. Just read this post, substitute ‘leaves’ for ‘acorns’, and you will get the idea.