A walk to Ela Woods this afternoon.
Six stoical horses bunched up against the fence seeking shade from sun and biting flies.
Stood there static, lethargic, morose.
Having to take it, bear it, endure it.
But having me around poking my camera up their nostrils seemed to cheer them up a bit.
Words, Walk, & Vid: Ian Nisbet
A Stiniel Squirrel.
Munching merrily away on his nuts (as squirrels are wont to do)
All fluffily cute and charming.
But what happened next wasn’t (cute or charming)
His big bushy tail was all that was left of him (plus a foot) the following morning.
Buster the big feral farm cat had had him for dinner.
While out walking in the snow last week I saw this notice pinned to a post
Some local being clever in a funny kind of way, or funny in a clever kind of way?
But appears that it might have been memed through social media. A North Devon businessman, Rob Braddick, up in Westward Ho! claims to have started this Yogapooing already (click this link to DevonLive)
OK. It’s about time something was done. It’s not just the dog. And its not just the dog shitting. Its the owners of these dog shitting dog shitters that need to be made to face it. (Notice I’m referring to the phenomena not with the nice nomenclature of polite poo, but calling it as the nasty actual shitty thing it really is)
So could ‘YogaPoo’ be the way to clean our streets? Probably not. But in a helpful spirit of playfulness what about extending the concept to other forms of alternative cleansing exercise? We could instigate:
ShiatsuShitsu
Not solely confined to shitty shaitsus. Other crappy yappy little mutts are also included.
ChiGongDung
Like YogaPoo only slower.
TaiChiTurd
Like ChiGongDung but even slower.
CackAsthenics
Whipping up a bit of a sweat in a Onesie
KundaliniKrapping
The sublime ecstasy of excrement removal.
JudoJobby
Roll over and take a bow.
FacialFaeces
The dogs face rubbed in it. Along with its owners.
DogDooDooDance
Get couples to doo doo it together while jigging away to the song “Who Let The Dogs Out”. Woof. Woof.
DogShitBumpsie
Reinserting the brown log back up its dog.
RollerBladeRumpPuddy
In one swift swoop, the poop is scooped.
Picture & Words: Ian Nisbet.
Numerous wondrous creatures were concieved by the ‘Beast from the East’ this weekend.
A most motley medley of snow spawn.
This Faun was laid low by the pale white afternoon sun
It looked at me, yawned, stroked its goatee beard, then gave me the cold shoulder.
This Siberian Snow-Snake was slipped out, stone-cold, from under a blue bush.
It lay perfectly, powerfully, still.
I had to creep by imitating the silence of a snowflake.
I almost stepped upon this nesting Ice-Owl. It had 3 little owlets (or icelets) frozen solid inside its frosty feathers.
Its cavernous eyes stared at me with icy disdain.
I dared not stare back.
Of course whenever and wherever you go for a walk there’s bound to be
a doggie yelping and yapping towards you
Sure enough, a dog leapt out from a hedge
The infamous Snooowdle
This one had just done a snowpoop.
Fortunately theres no need to pick it up.
Unlike the little shits done by corporeal canines
A snoowdles poo is odourless and entirely harmless.
And, thankfully, it’ll have melted into thin air by tomorrow.
(the poo – and the snoowdle)
Buckfaststein has its own rare-breed flock of snowy sheep.
Called ‘sheeple’ (Buckfaststein is were the derisory appellation ‘sheeple’ first originated)
Sheeples are not known for being especially deep or articulate conversationalists.
Sheeplish: “Baaaahh! Baaaah!”
(Translation: “Wo ist wee guv?”)
Sheeplish: “Bah! Ba ba Bah!”
(Translation: “Chucken uns feedlies”)
Sheeplish: “Ba….. Ba….. Ba….Blahbla Baaaah!.”
(Translation: “Zis snee ist maken meine vool heavi”)
Sheeplish: “Ba…..Ba……B……B…..b…..b…..b!”
(Translation: “O….m….e….i….n…e….. G….o…..t….t!!”)
Sheeplish: “Baaah… er…. baaah…. er…. baaah… er…. baaaaahh”
(Translation: “Bum…..er…. diddly…..er…..bum……er….did-diddy”
Sheeplish: “Baaaaah und Baaaaah und Baaaaahhh und BLaaaaahhh!”
(Translation: “Wee… ist….Sheeplisher…..Mensch!…..Helfen….Uns!”
A walk up Sharpham drive this afternoon.
Hoping to spot starlings murmurating above the river reed beds.
Instead I got a flock of bumping, butting, bouncing sheep.
And a laid back muching cow.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet
Walking through Lincombe Woods this afternoon.
Here is Haze. And there is a Fox.
A what ?!? “A FOX! A FOX! A FOX!!”
Haze was one side of the beech, the fox the other.
Shouting “FOX!” ‘FOX!!” “FOX!!!” did nothing to endear me to the said animal.
It shot off quick from whence it came, scarping back into the woods.
In future it might be best if I refrained from shouting my head off like some demented Springwatch presenter.
Got to curb the enthusiasm. Got to cool the hot jets on my eager zeal.
Got to stop getting so bleddy EXCITED!!
