To Yorkshire: Memories of Pigs and a Lost Dog

Along the A1 we crossed a bridge over a river, which meandered picturesquely across fields on either side of the road. On the left hand side were two adjoining fields of rough pasture, each containing cows of the same type. Interestingly, in the first field the cows were grouped hard together in the centre of the field all laying down, whereas in the adjoining field they were spread out all across the field grazing and not one was lying down.

Yet I remember many years ago, as a child, hearing that cows lie down when rain is imminent, so opposing behaviour from cows in adjoining fields intrigued me. Was this long held piece of weather lore a myth? I felt confused and wondered if one group of cows felt the same.

I saw a large pig, turquoise in colour bombing along the road in front of us as we approached Biggleswade. Strange, I felt sure it was a car but my husband insisted it had to be a pig because of the way it was hogging the fast lane and refusing to move over.

Personally, I like pigs and don't agree with the way they are much maligned by the way people allude to them. As a child I had to go and buy our eggs from a smallholder who kept not only hens but also pigs. One time as I arrived he was just going to feed the pigs and asked if I would like to join him and watch them being fed. I readily agreed and off we went to an area of his land I had not seen before. The pigs were well-housed and each pen had a large area where the pigs could root and forage to their hearts' content. They met us with a mixture of contented grunts and joyful squeals and as they fed we rubbed their backs, at times they lifted their heads and looked at us. Mr Dixon explained to me as he cleaned their pens out how sociable pigs are and treated right how friendly also, but added a warning rider never to take this for granted and to always take care when near pigs. He had raised these from piglets and spent a lot of time with them but was still aware that as friendly as they appeared even he had to always be aware and on his guard. He also pointed out that properly cared for, pigs are not dirty animals and he showed me how they all went to one corner to defecate; it was true, nowhere else in their outside area was soiled. He said they never soil inside their houses and just need to be cleaned out regularly, then they will only ever soil one area, usually a corner and the same one each time.

Mr. Dixon was a kind, quietly spoken, man with a permanent smile creased into his brown weather-beaten face. He had a gentle sense of humour and knew so much about wildlife. His grounds were like an enchanted place, full of butterflies and the song of birds. He always met me with a smile and a kindly word. It was a joy to be sent to collect eggs or to pick and buy fruit from him -- much nicer than having to run along the main road to the shops and then struggle back weighed down with bags sometimes almost too heavy to lift, to the tune of busy cars rushing past on their way wherever.

We passed a long roadside ditch, overflowing with meadowsweet and as always I longed to be free from the car and bury my face in the sweetness of their perfume.

A little further along we passed a sign for a lost dog -- a Westie -- and my heart went out to the owner(s). I well know the anguish of losing a beloved pet. Many years ago our daughter was in Great Ormond Street Hospital and we balked at leaving our dear Sheltie locked indoors while we visited her; Shep was an unusually intelligent dog with lots of personality. Close friends offered to look after him while we visited and we gratefully accepted. We were devastated on arriving home to find they had taken him for a walk and let him off his lead, of course he had made a dash for it and headed for home.

We returned home hoping to find him waiting outside, but no such luck. A neighbour reported seeing him hours earlier dodging traffic on a nearby main road, he had pulled over to the kerb and tried to catch our dog without success.

We left the usually locked back garden gate unlocked and open wide, while we continued searching and calling. Every so often checking our own garden always without success. Sadly time moved on and the hour grew so late we knew we had to stop for the night. We checked the garden one last time and went indoors. We did not feel like eating and knew we had to be back in London at the hospital first thing in the morning. Our hearts were heavy.

After a quick cup of tea we made ready for bed, but before going decided to check the garden one last futile time. Opening the back door, there he was, sitting patiently waiting and so emotional. Who was more pleased us or him? It was hard to tell. His eyes were screwed shut , his mouth set in an enormous doggy grin and his whole body shortened as he bunched it up and wagged not just his tail, but his whole body, huddling we called this when we had seen it at times of great happiness on previous occasions.

We were so delighted to see him, bed was forgotten and the fact that we had an early start and a busy day not many hours away. We vied to stroke and hug him, we talked nonstop to him  fed him and vowed never to leave him with anyone else ever again --- nor did we.

Once again I digress, we are of course on the A1 on our way to Yorkshire and I notice the central reservation must be a wildlife paradise for small mammals and insects. It is filled with a glorious mix of bright yellow, purple and cream wild flowers -- if only there were no traffic fumes ......... !

The sky today has been an artist's dream and I am reminded of John Constable and his skies. The clouds are well defined and ranging through every shade of darkest grey to brightest white against a variable background of shades of grey or stunning mid-blue. The temperature is as variable and quickly rises from 12 degrees to19 and just as fast drops back, as the weather changes from bright to the heaviest showers possible where visibility is very impaired and the spray is reminiscent of the spray from a rough sea hitting the sea wall at the coast. In fact at one point it became so bad that cars which had been crawling along were forced to pull over to the edge of the road and just stop -- this is the first time I have ever witnessed this.

We have just driven over the bridge across the river Trent, a wide river and to one side a huge lake absent of any sign of wildlife, but still I longed to stop the car and walk round it, perhaps I would find signs of wildlife invisible to people in a passing car. The A1 is punctuated by great swathes of tall cerise pink rose bay willow herb. They are so visually attractive and such a joy to see when the clumps are so large.

Leaving the A1 and joining the M18, we also change the music from Coldplay to Keane.

I am fascinated by the beautiful English countryside so lush and green from its many trees, single bushes, hedgerows and its patchwork fields stretching for mile upon mile to the horizon. The patchwork effect caused by the colour variations from different plants growing in other places. Cropped fields already ripened and gathered in show as golden brown and remind us that autumn is not far away. Roadside verges and banks are already yellowing in places, because they are thirsty and crying out for rain, not so today, for they have had it in plenty. Overall though will it be enough, I wonder.

The rose bay willow herb is in varying stages of development, and we pass one place where it is almost over and a straggle of purple buddleas have taken over to pretty up the roadside. They bear beautiful honey scented flower spires, so enjoyed by bees, butterflies and other insects.

We pass a new estate spreading right to the motorway edge and I wonder what planners are thinking about to build so close to the edge of such busy roads, with lung disease on the increase and pollution a known factor. This is especially so with many babies and young growing children with their delicate growing lungs will breathe in this air.

Joining the M62 we pass on the right a motley assortment of silos, cranes, a water tower and on the extreme left of these a very picturesque and beautiful old church with a tower and various other buildings -- they looked so strange together that I wished I had my camera to hand.

We are passing ditches full of bullrushes, edged by great gatherings of purplish pink rose bay willow herb and bright yellow ragwort.

As we move along the A614, and see a cluster of newly built upmarket houses bordering the road, it is a less busy road and the gardens are at the back of the houses -- purer air for the residents' children to breathe.

A flock of pigeons pass over the car and I reflect that these are the only birds we have seen apart from on the A1 where we passed a few dozen perched on telegraph wires above the fields.