The Hills Are Alive...

...with the sound of me yelling at the dogs! Here I am, on the Edge of Exmoor, house-sitting for the farmer Ians while they recuperate from a hectic lambing season by walking long distances in the baking heat of Turkey! Yes, I used to share a house with three of the pups, but proper close control of any dog comes with familiarity on a daily basis. Taking over after being an "absent father" for a few months, therefore, can be quite a task. At least the new hound on the block, the wondrous Sonny, is familiar with the territory, being the resident sheep-herding hound...

Sunday morning. The morning after the night before, which featured an abortive attempt to see the rather brilliant Tankus the Henge performing in Barnstaple. Pub gigs are great, and usually end around closing time. This pub, however, had its own "club" attached, and the gig didn't even start until getting on for closing time. No notification anywhere, and the 9:00pm "doors open" time merely meant you were sitting around in their chilly "club room" for another hour and three quarters. When the group Tweeted that they'd be on stage at 10:45pm, I realised that I'd have to miss out this time as the hairy kids were still stuck in the kitchen, bless 'em. Ah! The trials of hound-sitters! Here's one of my favourite Tankus tracks from their first album, "Recurring Dream". There's a new album in the pipeline, I hear! Follow them on Twitter @tankusthehenge if you want to find out more. Go and see them performing live if you can - they are one of the most entertaining bands out there.

Some bird or other. The Ians would know...

Back to Sunday morning. Bright and early, although the sky itself had that misty quality that promises sunshine later on, off we went in the van to the empty fields on the farm. All the lower fields are now set up for growing grass, which will in turn become silage which will feed the sheep and cattle next year. The ewes and their lambs are all up on the higher ground now, which means plenty of romping room for the hounds! The best part is that these fields are sheep and lamb-proof, which means a certain Husky can be allowed to roam off-lead.

Sonny, in a rare moment of calm.

Walking the hounds on the lower fields is a little like an episode of Sesame Street. Across seven, along the top of five, down through eight, round the edge of four. And when you get to thirteen, well! All referring to the field sizes in acres, apparently, but the fields aren't actually those sizes. Hmmmm. As Sonny enters each new field, he joyfully charges around the entire perimeter. I've been led to believe that this is down to his sheepdog instincts, looking for stray lambs, but really I think he's heard of these time trials that humans do on their cycle runs and is aiming for a personal best every morning. Boy can he move! At the other extreme is poor old Fred. He has creaky hip joints and barely gets above a brisk walk. Every time (albeit not very often) he breaks into a trot, I say "take it easy, Fred!", but I don't think he understands English too well...

Joey loves to bark, seemingly to annoy the humans as much as possible. From the instant he leaps out of the van, he's a yappin' and a prancin' with a wicked glint in his eye - cueing the first round of human yells. "Joey! Shut up!" - truly leading by example (not).

"Waiting for Freddy"

Then, Cody gets the whiff of something interesting. Huskies have a one-track mind: Food. This is one reason why it is unwise to have a Husky off the lead in the open countryside. At least in these fields, he (theoretically) can't get out if a rabbit does cross his path. In open countryside, he'd be gone for hours if he saw a deer in the distance. The next bout of yelling that morning was, therefore, at Cody. He tends to take the lead, but when you see him stop dead in his tracks, ears pricked up and nose niffling the air (which is the scientific term), it's time to call him to heel. Cody, of course, will have none of this, and off he charges. The only amusing aspect of this would be watching me charging after him. What's that he's found in the hedge on the other side of the field? Ah yes - a decomposing rabbit corpse. No, Cody. That is NOT your breakfast! "Drop! Leave! Bad dog!" - all of which is pretty futile when there is potential food around. I end up having to pick up the soggy corpse and throw it over the hedge, out of reach, but I know that he'll be niffling around that same spot on the next walk - just in case.

Fred bringing up the rear

The rest of this morning's walk was fairly uneventful - mainly waiting for Fred to catch up, so I took advantage of the pauses to take a few photographs. It really is a lovely place to be spending some time with the hairy kids...