I WONDER IF IT'S NAME WAS ALAN.....

Not a “morning person”. Used to be, when I was younger (and happier). But somehow …. it’s just not there anymore.

I “need” to get up just after 5:00, but nine times out of ten I’m awake about 4:00. When I say “need” it’s not through any physical or spiritual commitment, you understand, it’s a “work” thing.

Unlike the local partridges, who all seem to enjoy a bit of a lie-in in the mornings.! Strange wee birds, partridges. They just seem to sleep where they stop (obviously not mid flight). Quite often we see them sitting there, at the side of the road, dead to the world. Seem to be at peace with everything – blissfully unaware that some day soon some “tweedy sort” in hunter wellies and a  flat cap is going to blow their little head off with a shotgun! In fact – it won’t even have the dignity of getting it’s head blown off by a “tweedy sort” – it’s more likely to be some well-to-do townie-tit with more money than sense playing at being a tweedy sort!

Anyway. This morning, as we headed up by the Brunt at about 6:15 Anne had to stop the car as one was just sitting there sleeping – bang in the middle of the road. Now, you’d think the approach of a car, with headlights blazing, would wake it up. Did it hell.

I got out and walked towards it going “shoo” and telling it, rather loudly, to “feck off”. That didn’t work.

I gave it a little prod with my hand and its stirred but just gave me a sleepy little look and then settled back down.

Ended up just getting back in the car and Anne drove slowly “over” it (as opposed to “drove over it” – if you get my drift). The clearance on our car should allow for the safe passage of a wee partridge.

Pretty sure it was OK.

 

 

Wish I could sleep that soundly.