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).

Beagles on the Moor
Beagles on the Moor

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.

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