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I was once walking the dog alongside the river Dee on the edge of the Duke of Westminster's estate, when I saw the most magnificent stag standing still and stately on the green.
I marvelled at how lucky I was to see such a fine but scarce and timid beast and couldn't take my eyes of him until he bounded off over a rise.
On rounding the next bend, however, I saw him again - he had joined the rest of the herd of at least a hundred beasts! There was me thinking I had spotted something rare and beautiful and all the time it was fresh venison!
[quote=mcbemused]There was me thinking I had spotted something rare and beautiful and all the time it was fresh venison![/quote]
But magnificent nevertheless. Just because you can eat it doesn't make it wonderful (and in Mr Bear's opinion, it makes it doubly so).
Where we used to live, down in the Vienne part of France, whenever we went for a walk we would see at least one hare - always solitary, always an honour and quite magical. One very snowy day we saw a pair boxing, in a field with a clay-roofed yellow stone church behind them. That's a view we can't ever repeat, and will never forget.
We had one in the garden one morning, lying like a small wallaby eyeing up the veggie plot; it seemed such a privilege I didn't begrudge him the odd spot of lunch at our expense. When the sheep got in, that was different - I patrolled our sprouts like they were on the front line of defence!
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I marvelled at how lucky I was to see such a fine but scarce and timid beast and couldn't take my eyes of him until he bounded off over a rise.
On rounding the next bend, however, I saw him again - he had joined the rest of the herd of at least a hundred beasts! There was me thinking I had spotted something rare and beautiful and all the time it was fresh venison!
But magnificent nevertheless. Just because you can eat it doesn't make it wonderful (and in Mr Bear's opinion, it makes it doubly so).
Where we used to live, down in the Vienne part of France, whenever we went for a walk we would see at least one hare - always solitary, always an honour and quite magical. One very snowy day we saw a pair boxing, in a field with a clay-roofed yellow stone church behind them. That's a view we can't ever repeat, and will never forget.
We had one in the garden one morning, lying like a small wallaby eyeing up the veggie plot; it seemed such a privilege I didn't begrudge him the odd spot of lunch at our expense. When the sheep got in, that was different - I patrolled our sprouts like they were on the front line of defence!