I didn’t see a lot of bird yesterday, but kept eyes open for whatever else might be around the next nook or cranny.
And there’s always something on offer, something you least expect to see.
Such as these diddy little brown bundles; peering at me through the gauze of their hairy fringes.
Turns out they were a small herd of Scottish Highland cattle relocated, for some no doubt very viable commercial reason, to the bubbly hills of Devon.
Like toy cows, but apparently hardy little buggers.
Perhaps these scruffy fringes help protect their eyes from all those pesky Scottish midges.
A mile from Habourneford you have to go through this dense Tree Tunnel
I’ve often felt slightly spooked whenever I’ve walked through it.
And there always seem to be crows or other portentous black birds flapping furtively about deep inside, as if warning you off.
On the way back from the Dam I could have ended up in
I chose neither.
Despite aching feet, I contentedly tromped my 7 mile walk back
Especially as, when looking across the horizon, I saw this
The sun setting over Brent Hill.
Don’t know that I’d do this long walk to Avon Dam again in a hurry.
But just for yesterday, it was exactly what I needed.