A dark and waterlogged day, but I was in the mood for a walk on the moor. I soon discovered that my trusty boots—specifically, my trusty right boot—has started to leak. Eighteen years I've had them; we've been on a lot of great walks together. Think I'll try to re-waterproof them before giving up on them.
There was a pack of beagles braying in the mist all over the lower moor. Drag-hunting, I later learnt. From a distance, beagle yaps sound like jackdaws (and vice versa).
Nothing much doing on the wildlife front, apart from the obligatory red grouse. Reliable as ever. Oh, yes, and I did manage to startle a strange wader from a clump of rushes at the corner near the shooters' hut. It flew off high in total panic, issuing a harsh, almost mechanical cry: my first ever snipe on the moor.
So, a pretty good result for an inauspicious day.