Patience is usually rewarded. I saw the super moon on Monday evening, when the moon appeared bigger than usual because its elliptical orbit brought it closer to Earth than it had been since 1948.
Scotland’s North-East was the best part of the country to experience the phenomenon as our skies were relatively cloud clear. In recent months I have been frustrated in my efforts to see forecasted Northern Lights and looked in vain for meteor showers which have been obscured by thick cloud.
Other celestial near-misses have been McNaught’s comet in 2007, which will not return to our skies certainly in my lifetime. And, driving home one evening, the Doyenne saw a moonbow, or night rainbow, which is very rare. And I am still waiting to see one.
At 5.45pm the Doyenne and I watched the full moon rising tentatively through the bare branches of the neighbouring wood. A fitful wind blew broken wisps of cloud across its face and I thought we would be disappointed again and that just these fleeting glimpses were all that we should see.
For a short time, as the moon rose above the wood and was still low in the sky, it certainly appeared larger than usual but I was generally underwhelmed by the experience. I have walked dogs in the dark for well over half a century and seen countless full moons and this one was scarcely more memorable than many others.
The impression of size was lost as the moon climbed higher, possibly because it no longer had the wood as a point of reference and I was looking at it against the infinity of space. And, yes – it was brighter than usual.
I spoke to another dog walker on Tuesday morning who had been woken in the early hours with the unaccustomed brilliance shining through his curtains.
Colourful memories
For me, the sunset earlier on Monday afternoon was much more dramatic. I was walking Inka on stubble fields and a 180° arc of the western sky blazed molten pink, edged with electric blue and streaked with charcoal grey, setting the foothills of the Angus glens alight.
I never cease to marvel how the colours dissolve into one another, like oil on water, as the setting sun drifts into dusk. And when it is gone, the memory is of colour only, because there is no form to remember.
In the past 10 days, out walking with Inka in woods, I’ve come across three scatters of pale, purple-grey feathers among the undergrowth – signs of a violent death. The victims, woodpigeons. The predators almost certainly sparrowhawks, which are woodland hunters.
Their main prey are small woodland birds and mammals but the bigger female has no difficulty in catching and dispatching a pigeon.
Responsible dog walking
I’ve been hearing stories of sheep worrying and killing by uncontrolled dogs. Responsible dog owners will be horrified when they hear about such things.
Farming is a business like any other. His farm is the farmer’s office, his place of work, his factory. We should all be outraged if our places of work were invaded by strangers wandering through with undisciplined dogs. Farmers and other managers of land, such as gamekeepers, are no different.
We are lucky in Scotland to have a statutory right of access to our outdoors and countryside. But the right comes with responsibilities – to respect the interests of other people; to care for the environment and to take responsibility for our own actions which, in my view, includes knowing where your dog is at all times and having it under control, and keeping it on a lead if necessary.
The Scottish Outdoor Access Code is set out clearly in Scottish Natural Heritage’s (SNH) publication of that name. It can be downloaded in full from the home page of the Access Code website www.outdooraccess-scotland.com or hard copies are available free of charge from SNH’s publications section at pubs@snh.gov.uk or phone 01738 458530.
Access Code information specifically for dog walkers – which should be required reading – can be found at www.jessthedog.org.uk and there is a link to a page of seasonal advice for dog walkers. Again, hard copies are available.
Access rights are not a licence for walkers, with or without dogs, to trample roughshod over land or farms without regard for landowners’ and land users’ interests. For inconsiderate dog walkers, the ultimate sanction can be the destruction of their dog.
Warm memories
I attended the Remembrance Day service in Brechin Cathedral last Sunday. Afterwards, I marched to the War Memorial for the laying of the poppy wreaths. It was a dreich morning and I was thankful to be wearing my father’s tweed overcoat. A label sewn into the lining tells me that it is hand woven Shetland tweed. Father bought it in 1926 and it is as warm today as it must have been when he first wore it 90 years ago.
I mentioned this to another of the marchers who could hardly believe it. “It’s an antique,” she said. I was quick to assure her that the mannie inside it wasn’t.