New Technology and Peacocks


Walking my dogs over the beautiful landscape of this Island is what makes my days. I find being with them eases the burdens of life, well sort of as sometimes they can be the cause of said burdens. When Hector starts doing the River dance on the kitchen lino at 8am, I know today is going to be a “burden”.

I’ve purchased a new secret weapon and have been dying to try it out on Hector. Before we can even think of our walk to come we have to run the gauntlet of Stuka dive bombing seagulls presently nesting on our roofs. No matter how nonchalantly we start off me and Hector end up running for our lives across the car park as visions of Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” invade my mind. The fact that I head butt the van door whilst ducking to avoid a near miss does nothing to improve my temper. Not even a shrieked piss off improves my temper. Poor Hector jumps in the van, tail between his legs, thinking that the foul language is directed at him as per usual and I am starting early on him this morning.

Things go from bad to worse when I remember I fused the radio yesterday when my bottle of caffeine fuelled coke (gave up on the water as too healthy) fizzed and exploded over it. Echo’s of an “I told you that was going to happen at some stage” from the husband prompts me to reach for the fags. Then realise I haven’t got any as I am giving up. Not to worry as three bad starts mean I am going to have an incident free walk – in theory.

I decide to go to the woods to test my new secret weapon to the best of its ability. I have to park a the car park at the bottom of the hill and walk up it to get to the path that leads into the woods and this will be a perfect test for my new weapon (any ideas yet). I park up, open the van, grab an unsuspecting Hector with an evil smirk and produce my new piece of equipment.

Out comes my lovely new Tutti Fruttii coloured anti pulling lead. We are talking high tech here to the tune of £30. It is made from the same elasticised material as bungee jumping ropes and it has a special handle shaped like a water skiing grip to improve hold and comfort. It is real smart and is going to help me enforce the fact I am in control to Hector. Hector doesn’t even look at it and has me flat on my face up the bank within two seconds. Ok, that was an accident and now we are on the road surface, technology is going to prove its worth.

I spend the next five minutes being jerked and bounced around at the end of this bloody lead as it extends and snaps back into shape as Hector stops to sniff as he charges up the hill. Perhaps the lead needs a breaking in period as well as Hector as he obviously hasn’t got the idea he is NOT supposed to be able to pull on it. Half way up and I am thinking how to compose my demand a refund letter politely. Designers of said lead obviously did not use a Weimaraner to test the prototype. Was just thinking of money and drains when Hector spies the Chickens.

Just near the entrance of the woods is a lovely little chocolate box cottage. This is a typical Jersey affair. This cottage has loads of free running chickens and ducks in its drive and garden. Hector knows that they are there and just gives them the cursory “I could kill you in a split second if I chose to” look. Shame he didn’t give it to the Peacock that was stalking us from behind.

At first we thought the sudden outbreak of panicked squawks of the chickens were due to our push me pull you presence. It is strange though as the chickens mostly just eyeball us insolently when we walk this way. I don’t know what made me turn around; call it a sixth sense, but I wish I hadn’t. Behind us was a Peacock doing a Road Runner impression up the hill. If there is one thing I dislike it is Peacocks. This stems from being chased by one as a kid on the farms. The shear fear at this exotic coloured animal running towards me whilst emitting this unearthly screaming wail (think screaming sea sirens luring sailors to the depths of the ocean) brought back all these childhood memories of being victimised by one. When it suddenly paused to shudder and display its wondrous tail, Hector freaked. At this point I will mention that the “fearless” part of his CV is being scraped. Hector did a Scooby Doo in the same direction as the retreating chickens up the driveway of the little cottage. I think at this point Peacock upped a gear in glee at getting such a dramatic response from us. He could of being defending the poor chickens, under the impression Hector and I were a threat. Whatever Peacocks reasons, I decided to go along with Hector’s choice of actions anyway.

Actually, I didn’t really have a choice as the high tech anti pull lead sort of bungeed me behind him.

The sight of the steep banked topped with a lovely little privet hedge in our path made me miss a stride. Not so Hector who has the advantage of four legs. He is up it like Colin Jackson. I, being less than agile on a good day, am slammed face first into the bank. As the extending capabilities of my arm start to get tested along with the new lead, I desperately try to gain purchase of the bank surface and follow my Grey Ghost. It is really hard when you are trying to crawl up a wet, muddy bank with one hand extended above your head whilst attached to a 33kg panicked dog who give not a toss about your welfare or safety. My hand was also jammed through the water ski grip by now. Hector had nearly reached the top when my hand came free of the grip. For a split second we were both stopped in our desperate escape. Then the bungee lead twanged back into shape and the hard water ski handle thwacked Hector right in the back of the head. He managed to give me that hooded Hooker on a street corner look before he overbalanced in shock and slithered back down the bank right on my head.

I landed first with Hector landing on me askew across my shoulders like the sort of old Fox pelt shawl my Gran used to wear. He had the same stuffed open mouth expression as well, but that could have been because he had the wind knocked out of him. This did have one welcome effect though. This Peacock may have been brave, but it wasn’t suicidal. The fear of being squashed by a less than selevette human and dog clearly did not appeal. It retreated at least twenty yards back.

I was just about to overcome my fear of this bloody bird and wring its neck when the cottage door opened. Out comes this old bird (two legged in this case) waving a huge bloody broom in our general direction. Her warblings were more unearthly than the Peacocks. I have a serious respect for the generation of Jersey people that were here during the War and German Occupation. This old Jersey maid had to date before then easily; her appearance was a frightening as her speed of approach impressive. She obviously thought she was being invaded again and was making a stand this time. I just closed my eyes, held my Hector close to my chest (might soften the blows!) and waited to be brained senseless by a pile of dangerous bristles.

I can’t do a Jersey accent as most of it is French based anyway, but instead of being “broomed” I was helped to my feet with the words “it the second time this week that bugger has done this”. It turns out that the Peacock is hers and he has developed a warped sense of humour and hides in the bushes, using the chickens for bait, and chases anything that wonders close to them. Today was our turn to “come on down” – literally as it turns out.

My nerves are truly shot to pieces after this. I manage to collect what piece of pride I have left, get to my feet and wiped the imbedded mud and grass from my attempts at climbing the bank slowly and coming down quickly and decide that I want to go home whilst I am still physically able. Hector will have to be walked later. Like two fags and a tumbler of brandy later. I pay my respects to my saviour and with as much grace as I can, allow Hector to bungee pull me back out of the cottage driveway.

High tech bungee jumping lead did win the battle of “no we are going bloody home now and not the woods”. Unfortunately it did not survive the severe chewing it got in temper from one cheesed off, walk deprived Hector. I stupidly left it on him in the back of the van on the way home. Hector may not have any respect for high technology and my money, but he is certainly going to respect Peacocks from now isn’t he.