The trees are changing colour and the bracken is falling over, as well as changing colour. The grass is still green and tastes just fine, which of course is all that really matters to us.
We are moving round the park a bit more which means poor old Twolegsnahat is having to make his visitors walk a bit further. Mind you, some of the old uncles just stay where they are. They aren’t going to wander about much in case a younger uncle decided to claim that patch for himself.
I have not yet mentioned Uncle Lugless; he does not go far from his patch. He is a stroppy old bull and we think what is left of his lug must hurt because he is always in a bad mood. Twolegs gives him a wide berth even when he is in his red job. Perhaps he thinks Uncle Lugless might put a couple of holes in the shiny red job with his horns. I wish he would.
If anyone is going to skewer a two legged one it will be Uncle Lugless.
Wilde a calf