The remnants of the old Caledonian Pine Forest and the river Farrar rushing through the bottom of the glen were attractive and impressive. Yet what drew my attention were the snow patches on the surrounding hills.They seemed to sum up the summer, with its low average temperatures compared with other years, as the snow should have long melted.
Sitting on the hillside by a burn that tumbled down to the river, I admired the wild flowers. The dominant one – probably because of the intense yellow of the flowers – was bog asphodel, sometimes single ones and other times tight clumps. Pale green leaves of butterwort were under the flowering heathers in the damper areas, and eyebrights were conspicuous despite their tiny white flowers.
Then there was that unexplained sense that I was being watched and eventually there they were, amid some closely cropped juniper bushes, a group of wild goats from the tribe that lives in this strath. While some were browsing on the fresh leaves of the juniper, most were intent on watching me. With the nearest ones I could see their almost hypnotic eyes, with the dark, narrow, horizontal iris. Eventually they seemed assured at my presence and all carried on browsing. I took the chance to photograph the nearest ones. These were mainly nannies with a few of this year’s kids, that would have been born in February/March.
The nearest goat was a finely marked black and white nanny that had two silvery kids with her; twins are not uncommon. I was so engrossed with the photography of the nanny that I failed to notice one feature. Not until I uploaded the photographs onto the computer did I realise that she only had one horn. This could have been from fighting with either another nanny or a billy or having been caught in a fence. Once I had noticed, on the large screen, the absence of it was so obvious, but not at the time I was staring at her in the strath.
