The Nipper alarm went off at ‘O-crack-sparrow-fart’ this morning, which is very early indeed. In fact as early morning alarms go it is classed as earlier than ‘O-daft-O-clock,’ the latter of which beats nature’s dawn chorus by a full 30 minutes. As it was Nipper that stirred and growled (& not Joss and Hannah) I put it down to his inexperience in life and all things country-wise, after all he is still a ‘young-un’ experiencing is his first British Summer Time. Had it been a growl from the old and bold fearless Joss, followed up by Hannah’s wailing and gnashing of teeth, I may well have mustered the enthusiasm to crawl out from the depths of my bed and taken a look-see. Royal Marine Light Infantry-Circa 1901-PekingHaving turned over I went back to fighting the hordes of Chinese boxer rebels as they stormed the walls of the British delegation; the blame of which I put down to eating cheddar cheese toasties while watching the movie ’55 Days at Peking’ the evening before!
Just as I parried a blow away from the boxer rebel’s bladed pole-arm, I shifted my body weight forward ready to ‘run me bayonet’ through the side of his chest. The low growling Nipper alarm sounded for the second time, which dragged my floating grey matter away from Peking’s bloody carnage back into the real world. Still no back up from the wiser canines as I lay motionless listening for the slightest noise (wondering about the boxer rebel who had almost been dispatched to meet his mystical spirit), according to my bedside time piece it was now ‘O-daft-O-clock.’
Nipper had succeeded in his attempt to bugger up my morning as I was wide awake and required a strong cuppa-char; it was time to put the kettle on and scan the outside area for the cause of his concern. First stop being the upstairs office for my ‘grab and run’ clothes that are positioned there to stop me charging around the building naked (in case of fire-or intruder.) The ‘young-un’ followed me cautiously as I entered the room, he was again growling lightly and walked toward the huge window in slow motion, cocking his head from side to side frowning as he did so. His manner put me on edge, that also pushed me to quickly jump into my rig of the day, boots and all. Only then did I gently tweak the blinds a tiny crack to peek outside to observe the cause of his agitation. Click to enlarge There before me in the field stood atop the tree logs were a pair of ‘alectoris rufa,’ or ‘deux perdrix français’ or even ‘two red legged french partridge!’ Nipper must have been blessed with a submariner’s acoustic hearing at birth, because Joss and Hannah were still pushing out zzzZZZ’s, whilst the cheeky french couple had been helping themselves to the wild bird seed in the garden (at the same time depriving an Englishman of his sleep.) I took the photograph and then spooked them both into flight-much to the annoyance of Nipper whose tail was wagging for England. His wish was to get out and play on the logs with his new-found gaily coloured Gaelic feathered friends. My wish was for a pot of tea and a bacon sandwich, and a manufacturer who makes ear defenders for young canines… Harrumph! Yours Aye.