Wandering Tups

03/16/2005

Mild low-pressure weather rolls into the Argyll hills and glens, and that only means two things. The snow melts and it starts to rain in earnest! This is accompanied by a strong southwesterly breeze, on the up side it is a dizzy plus twelve degrees. A phone call to Arichastlich brings news of the first Glen Orchy lambs, a bit early as usual, and a sighting of a lone grey wagtail. Although there are numerous birds signing away, I have not heard an oystercatcher in the glen yet. I have heard them elsewhere, but not here. The snow is stripped of the hills and the river Trollaigh roars into full spate. I seem to be stuck indoors with paperwork; however, I do manage an all too brief ascent of the Alt Trollaigh with the dogs to investigate something that has been catching my eye as I scan the policies each morning. It turns out to a large, smelly dead tup, not one of ours, but one that has wondered many miles over the hills from the other side of the A82. I leave it as fodder for birds and foxes and wonder about the sights and smells he must have encountered in his journey, probably taking up to two years. Thoughts of foxes reminds me that one of our less pleasant tasks, as our lambs will be due soon, will be to cull the fox numbers. I like all wild animals but why must the fox insist on confronting man by coming rampaging through the lambs and chickens at the farmhouse? Where is an animal psychologist when you need one? Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.