The pungent piles of manure [horse and possibly pig] had been distributed over the fields by the muck spreader just before we promenaded by with Hattie the dog. She was delirious with the richness and variety of aroma, we were less impressed.
For a moment there tho we thought that the birds had started nesting. I have clocked the odd blackbird pecking up wisps of dried grass instead of seeds from the feeder lately. However on closer sniff it became obvious that the muck spreader had been flinging its beneficence at the bushes too.
Further along gleamed the evidence of a broken windscreen
Rather attractive
as opposed to this weird conglomeration
which seems to be the fused remains of a pheasant and a rabbit, the back story might make a rather darker chapter then Alice would wish to see.
The final contribution is this rather substantial rock, did it do in the windscreen or the wild life.
I have just finished reading several crime stories on the trot, so my appetite for death and destruction is probably over stimulated. Cormac mcCarthy's No country for old men was excellent, but hardly a barrel of laughs, I daren't even start The Road. Arnaldur Indridason's Voices was engrossing also. I learnt Icelanders eat strange things for Xmas dinner - boiled smoked lamb.....
Now I am reading MRHall The Disappeared, it's that terrorist theme again, even crime writers are in the zeitgiest, or do they just take plots from the news reports does death and destruction follow fashions, am I Carrie Bradshaw....... I note from the Sundays that Jo Nesbo. Sara Paretsky, and Ann Cleve all have new murderers to pursue, I shall have to take up Austin again for some respite.
