walkwithdinosaurs: February 2023

February and it was looking a bit damp and blustery for a walk, but undaunted, the group of hardy Dinosaurs met up as requested at Drumderfit Forest car park.

Had they but known the origin of the name, they might have been a bit less happy to go there! Drumderfit was once known as Druim Dubh - the Black Ridge. The new (that is, still very old) name given to it was the Ridge of Tears. This followed a particularly bloody battle where only one member of the defeated party was left alive. The Gaelic saying goes along the lines of "Black ridge wert thou yesterday, but ridge of tears today". The name is also complicated by the addition of the word fit or pit, which often depicts a Pictish place name. The current Anglicised name used is a confusion between Gaelic Druim Diar - ridge of tears, and Pictish with the addition of fit (pit), which just denotes a portion of land.

Talking of confusion, it appears that JImmy had problems putting his waterproof trousers on, leading to a significant degree of confusion and delay. I was not on the walk, so can only go on the basis of the photos provided. Suffice to say, there are a lot of them, so the confusion was long lasting!

There have long been rumours that he could not get dressed without Jacque's help!

Nonetheless, he decides to go it alone.

To no avail.

Success seems close with Jacque's help again.

Whilst Jimmy was struggling with his waterproofs, It seems that Susan and Robin were OK with theirs, although Robin was indulging in a little too much manspreading for comfort.

Soon enough, Jimmy is skipping along the way.

Agnes had no such trouble with her new hat.

Watching all this carry on was a high flying Red Kite, well known for preying on the weak and vulnerable, or worse, those with failing eyesight!

Sharon assures me it was a Kite.

Unlike Jimmy, Sandra has mastered the skill of getting dressed by herself, but then again, she was a teacher.

Robin, meanwhile is suffering from an outpouring, having apparently overdressed for the occasion.

Finally, they were on their way on the aptly named ridge of tears. Certainly, getting this far into the story had made me weep.

For not very much height they got some long views over the Black Isle and beyond. This is looking towards Munlochy, which is a corruption of the Gaelic name Bun Lochaidh, meaning the inner root of the loch.

It was a bit on the guttery side, but Liz was determined not to let that stop her.

It was less guttery for Susan and Robin, but a little more strenuous, perhaps, but, at least they had a guide.

Fresh from the success of the trousers, Jimmy, the local tracker and guide, explains the finer points of following Tonto merely from the excretions of his horse.

Of course, everyone knows that Tonto's horse was called Scout.

Actually, that wasn't the horse's original name. When Tonto was a radio star rather than the TV actor we all remember from our childhood, his horse was called, without any apparent irony, White Feller. This was because, on the radio, the Lone Ranger and Tonto both had white horses (that we couldn't see). In the first Lone Ranger film in 1938, the producers thought two white horses would be confusing - it was America after all, so they gave Tonto a Pinto, which was still white enough to be called White Feller. Scout came along much later. Jimmy the scout points the way he thinks Tonto went.

Then, he realises that the clue was right in front of his nose. Yep, horse shit. I know it is hard to believe, but there is a pile of stuff about horse poo on the internet.

They go 8 times a day on average - a bit more than me, I would have to say. That amounts to about 50 pounds every 24 hours! Despite all this I found it difficult to glean how you could use the warmth of the deposit to tell how long ago it was made. So, I don't know how Tonto could tell the baddies were only three hours ride ahead. I don't believe that Jimmy could either.

I don't think prayer is the answer.

Neither does Hugh.

All thoughts of poo are banished when Sharon remembers that she was entrusted with the sweeties for the walk by Maureen, the sweetie wifie, who was unavailable to walk today.

They were all so happy.

This was not a sweetie and I don't know what it was. It was found accreted to tree bark, but the pictures don't really help with identification. So, a mystery it will have to remain.

Even to a teacher.

Undaunted by their lack of knowledge, off they jolly well went.

Not even gates could stop their progress.

Indeed, the gates opened to reveal some fine views.

Of a hen house.

Then again, it was getting on towards lunch time, and nothing would hold them back.

You are probably wondering why the hay they are leaning against is wrapped in black plastic. Even if you're not, you are about to find out.

Wrapping hay in plastic clearly helps keep the rain off and wet hay is going to increase the presence of bacteria and fungi, which, in turn, makes it more likely to spontaneously combust!

Black also absorbs more heat from the sun. You might think this is a good thing, but you can have too much of a good thing. In hotter climes than the Highlands, very high temperatures can make the black plastic become more porous, allowing bacteria to enter and raise temperatures even more. Not only that, but this can also degrade the quality of the hay, meaning it will be less nutritious for your animals and even so degraded, that you could not sell it if that was what you had intended.

If you see pink hay bales - which is likely in October - it is a sign of support for Breast Cancer charities.

That's enough bales for a while - on to lunch. As you know I was not on the walk, so could not keep Sharon right. That was why she poured cold water onto her cupasoup, making it lumpy and quite disgusting to drink.