Sex in the woodlands (2)

The other day I described our encounter with thousands and thousands of mating frogs and toads whilst on a walk around a local wood. I called that blog 'sex in the woodlands.' Now, I've no idea whether it was an interest in the natural history of amphibians or the sex word in the title but this particular item received a good number more than my usual ration of reader hits.

So I thought I'd try it again only this time it would be a true account of a similar if much longer ramble some years ago around the New Forest down south.

You know how, sometimes when you look back at an experience it has all the qualities of a dream, even when you know damn well it was not? Well this is one like that ...

We had been walking deep into the forest for about an hour and had stopped for our usual soup and sandwiches repast sitting on a fallen tree trunk when our young vizsla dog, Sorosh, ('beer drinker' in his native Hungarian) came back to us looking very, very woebegone and holding one foreraw up in the air. We knew at once what had happened. The New Forest is famous for its adders, and they don't take kindly to being molested by inquisitive canines. Furthermore we could clearly see the double toothed bite mark on his lower leg. Sorosh then laid himself down on the bracken, for all intents and purposes on his way to whichever haven misadventurous young doggies go to after this.

Panic? No. Yes. Dee sat beside him cuddling his head to comfort him whilst I and our bitch Mati raced off in the direction of the nearest habitation to summon help; a long, long way away. However after a mile or so I encountered some kind of a vision coming towards me in the form of a beautiful great silver grey horse, adorned with strange ribbons and bells, bearing a figure straight out of a Zane Grey novel. This equally beautiful young man wore no helmet, had a Mohican haircut and wore tasselled deerskin trousers, mocassin shoes and an open denim waistcoat over bare torso and arms. Speaking in an Oxcam voice he enquired as to my obvious problem. I told him about Sorosh. He said for me to go back to Dee and the dog and wait. He himself would go to fetch a forest warden and then gallop back across country to find Dee and tell her what was to happen.

By the time I and Mati got back the exotic rider had already been and gone from the scene, leaving Dee is a state of some excitement to add to her sense of horror about our seemingly dying young vizsla. Very soon afterwards the warden arrived, lifted the dog into his landrover and raced him away to a vet. A swift injection of something or other and he had in no time recovered. The vet told us such incidents were by no means uncommon. His own spaniel had been bitten three times, the last time by a female adder so large and powerful that it had knocked his bitch clean off her feet.

The bit I left out, the bit that added to the general surreality of the day and inspired the title of this blog, was that, on my way for help we had come across a couple shamefully older than me, (even), naked in the long stuff and having it, as they say, away! Mati, being a very friendly dog, was extremely curious about the behaviour of this couple, both of them by now trying to hide their faces as best they might. Of course I pretended to have seen nothing, whistled our girl in and raced on. The real problem came when, having had my meet with 'the vision' and on my hurried back track, I came upon that same couple, and them still at it. Mati this time greeted them as old friends. I'm quite sure they would have killed her if they could, and me too, who they must have thought a particularly boldfaced voyeur.

Sex / fantasy in the woodlands. But true, and all's well that ended well even if, in spite of all our enquiries, we never did find the identity of Sorosh's dreamlike mounted saviour.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.