So, off we went on our very first meandering adventure, past the meadow, and beyond… We had no idea what we would find. What we DID know was that The Wally gave us several frights as he pounded out of bushes, long grass, and even down straight trails. Every time he did so we thought it must be a bear, a mountain lion, or a very angry moth out for revenge for the countless of their species we had crunched happily.
We would do our most terrifying ‘arch your back and look furocious’ pose, but it seldom worked. More often than not the blundering hound would just barrel past with his tongue lolling about in the wind like a banner.
It was still October, and the grass, and shrubs were still quite long. As we were still just very furocious kittens, we were often swamped by the height of the forest surrounding us. This resulted in much meowing, and frantic jump-running in order to keep in sight of the patrol. Tail-end Charlie always buys it in the movies we’ve seen.
Still, we kept together as a team, and just kept on yomping towards our otherwise unknown target. We could hear a roaring in the distance though. I wonder what sort of beast it was?
Out by the fields the trails were barely trails. I made a mental note to bring a nice honed machete next time, but on later reflection I realised my lack of opposable claws meant this was a loser from the get-go.
The Wally sometimes had to be on his lead if there were sheep, goats, or packs of stray dogs about. They are often grazed on the land here, up and down the trails, so rather than have him go off lolling his tongue at the livestock, he was bound. Still, that means he was around to give headbonks to, and to sniff our bums.
The fields that had been harvested were crispy underfoot, and it took us a while to actually get used to it, often doing that funny trotting walk you see suspiciously well-dressed horses doing in those equestrian events. We soon got used to it, and confidently strolled across the hay strewn fields, blissfully unaware of the eagles flying high up overhead.
I think we would have been safe from the eagles anyway, as The Wally was along side us, and he was bigger than us, (although clearly less furocious).
The trees were a delight though. Many times we had to stop for 5 or 10 minutes just so we could leap up into one and give it a good scratching. Hooman became convinced we were tree whisperers, and were here to relieve itches the trees could not get with their own limbs.
The roaring was getting louder, and louder. This beast we had yet to clap eyes on never seemed to take a breath. It just roared, and roared, and roared, never letting up. We were getting nervous, but we were cats, and we were not going to let our species down by deserting our renowned sense of curiosity. Onwards we tramped towards this unseen foe…
What the bloody hell is that thing? It is like an over-exuberance of ‘wet’ and I HATE wet. What is it for? Why is it here? Does it ever shut up?
The weir fascinated us both, although we were determined not to go anywhere near it, in case it decided that kittens were particularly tasty morsels.
So that was, for the whole, our very first adventure out meandering with The Wally and Hooman. He has a video, but he will maybe post that tomorrow, or the day after. He has to figure out how the hell it gets put on the post. Still, I shall leave you this day with a picture of The Batman trying his best to be distinguished out near a field.
Until next time!