Out & About …

… on the North York Moors, or wherever I happen to be.

Another cracking morning

But a wee bit zneesy1Frosty — Grose, Francis. “A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue” 1785. [online] Available at: https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=RyVKAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA182&lpg=PA182&dq=zneesy&source=bl&ots=QQj5Tby0uu&sig=ACfU3U2fyIu9Y31H9zkARpGaVm_mjSsnmw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiltPidk-70AhXhoFwKHWr_DcAQ6AF6BAgQEAM#v=onepage&q=zneesy&f=false [Accessed 18 Dec. 2021]. below the cloud.

Above, the tranquility was disturbed by the sound of gunshots as the seasonal cull of pheasants was in full swing. Or maybe the shooters were after partridges, striving for that rarest of presents to give to their true loves — the partridge in a pear tree.

Rare because partridges hardly ever perch in any trees, let alone pear trees. You might see one occasionally on a fence, but essentially they are ground birds. In winter, they group into coveys — perhaps 12 or 15 birds — and roost at night on the ground, where, to keep a lookout for predators, they squat down at dusk in a circle all facing outwards. That way they have a better chance of detecting a fox approaching.

Brocken spectre — my shadow is there somewhere.






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