Chips and tears!

Normally, the Barranco is just so, so tranquil!

Sometimes, you can hear a distant chainsaw lopping almonds or olives. Sometimes, for an hour or so, the mattock gives way to the rotavator. Sometimes the local dogs get excited, over something only they can see, smell or imagine!  Young Christians’ afternoon visit to his ‘abuela’ (grandma), on his small cylinder motorbike; also interrupt the silence for a short while. Normally though, the only sounds, if any, are bird song or the soft tinkle of goat bells!

This morning was different though! Heavy machinery!  A  JCB with large mechanical bucket and ‘bulldozer’, was busy in the field below our Casa, cutting away the sloping bank to create more of a terrace and a much larger field in the process. What could be going on?

During the afternoon, Caterina came past our casa with her dog Tina. I asked her what was going on in the field below. She told me that Juan and Juanna were making a new olive grove. Sure enough, Juanna was busy with her mattock in the field above making sure the acequia was clear for the water necessary, for the olives. Unlike almonds, which can survive very arid conditions, the olive trees need a good soaking, a couple of time a year.

Catti asked me if I wanted some potatoes. They were too heavy for her to carry up from her casa, but if I wanted some, I should come to fetch them. Next morning I went down to her house.  Tina was dozing on a mat outside. I called for Catti and she shouted me in. A wood fire was prepared but she wouldn’t light it till much later. A bowl of shelled almonds were next to the fire – ready for toasting –yum!

She went to fetch me a big sack of potatos. Then she went off again and came back with a litre bottle of her recently pressed olive oil – very green and not very clear – but very delicious! Then she reached up to a shelf and produced an old small foto of her daughter (looking like a young bride) outside the local chapel at her ‘First Communion’. She asked if I could use my computer to copy and enlarge it, because in May she was going to Barcelona for the ‘First Communion’ of her granddaughter, and wanted to be able to give one as a little present!

A couple of days later she called around. This time with a bag of oranges from her tree!  I had the fotos ready for her, but as usual she liked to see the other fotos, I had scanned for her on other occasions.

….and then the tears came, as they always did, when she saw the old foto of her guapo Ramon, who died eleven years ago now.

Close encounter with 'los zorros'

I went for a lone walk the other day. It's not often i get out without the dogs, but  I needed to return a tool to a neighbour and sometimes they can be a bit pesky! 

Going down the camino,  I was surprised by a silver grey fox crossing my path. Just a few steps later I heard a 'squawking' noise coming from the small field. Two more young foxes were squabbling over a mouse that one had caught. They chased around the field until the fox that was chasing, spotted me. He quickly slunk off to hide, and the other enjoyed the respite and polished off the poor mouse! Then, hunger satisfied, he jumped into the camino and to my surprise trotted down it towards me where I was standing quietly by a tree. As he drew alongside he suddenly sensed my presence; I said 'Hola', and then with a little scream of great shock, he bounded up the hill into the wood.

Domingo too!

Another Sunday!

My dogs needed their early morning walk! We set off along the lane. The sun was rising, a rosy glow to the east over the sea, and reflecting golden on the Filabres to the west. Suddenly there was gun fire! Early morning hunters!

La Caza – the ‘sport’ of many men in this part of Spain. Every Sunday, they set out dressed in their camouflage to hunt rabbit, partridge and boar. I’m not sure about their hunting methods, but they involve guns, dogs or both; and the gunfire scares Holly, so that all she can do is tremble and hide for the rest of the morning. Pet dogs and hunters with guns don’t mix!

Now, a good part of my life in Spain seems to be about expending the energy of my dogs. A least two long walks every day are essential, if they are not going to pester me all evening to play games of their choosing! That being the case we decided to go down to Mojacar, for a walk along the beach, where they could chase seagulls and cormorants, up and down the surf, for miles, without fear of meeting La Caza, and hopefully to wear themselves out!

Millie

and Holly

As we drove into Mojacar, the sea glistened all across the bay as far as Aguilas, and the advertising sign of the ‘Pharmacia’ read 19deg centigrade. The resort town wasn’t melancholy today, as it had been through January. The town had spring in its step! Many more bars were open. Families were playing. There was a meet of cycle clubs. More people were strolling along the sea front.

We set off along the most southerly beach, just out of the town. It is the most deserted and undeveloped – mainly because of the recession! Several shells of apartments are awaiting completion. I suspect they will wait for some time yet! There are some fishermen on the shore and sailing boats out to sea. We set off towards the Moorish Tower and chirringuito at the far end of the beach, the dogs alternatively chasing, digging and playing. Prospects for a peaceful evening bode well! A motorised hang glider provided great entertainment for us and the dogs, the pilot waving back as he cruised overhead.

At the chirringuito we ordered coffee and tostadas – toasted bread spread with olive oil, tomatoes and cheese.  Some hikers came and went and then mountain bikers. Then a 4x4 arrived towing a trailer. Hunters with dogs in ‘tow’! On top of the trailer another ‘beast’ was laid, a deer or boar, dead!

I went to pay, and was astonished to see that the boar was by the counter, with one leg shackled with some cord so that it couldn’t run away. It was the size of a medium sized dog and was covered in course straight brown hair. It looked pretty bemused, pretty frightened!  I asked the camarera, if the pig was going to be eaten.  Sensing my feelings, she immediately replied ‘ oh no’; it was going to be released into the campo – to enjoy it’s life in the countryside! The huntsman led the poor pig closer to our table, where Millie and Holly surveyed it with much curiosity and just a little nervousness! I repeated the question – was the pig to be eaten? ‘Oh yes’, he said, ‘Do you want it’?

I declined! Poor Pig! I couldn’t have killed and eaten it. But isn’t it a more honest way of eating meat – hunting, finding, capturing and killing your food, that has had a life in the campo, than resorting to eating one of their ‘sorry’ relatives, who after no life at all, I often see being driven, in double-decker lorries down the motorway, to be slaughtered and butchered!