Monday, July 2

On boats and stoats

It’s wet enough to imagine life on a narrow boat moored halfway up the grand union canal. Ah, memories. In spite of the winds, however, the grey skies and non-stop rain – ground mists that dissolve into the low cloud, it remains beautiful outside. Every time I walk on the moor I come across something that excites. Today was a face off with a stoat. Not that stoats are particularly rare, but occasionally you come close enough to interact and allow yourself to imagine something more of the individual creature. I’m told stoats are skilful predators with as many adversaries as prey and that they lead correspondingly short lives. As such I am pleased to have been afforded the nodding acquaintance.

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