Walking farm dogs is a slightly different experience to a trip to a local park with a pocket full of plastic bags. We were only out for about 15 minutes. Result: two chewed up partridge eggs and one traumatised parent partridge. Followed swiftly by one happy gun dog with the complete, fur coated carcass of a rotting rabbit in its teeth.
I was particulary proud of the ineffectual way I waved a twig at her going 'Down, girl, down' as the professional gun dog looked up at me in curious amusement with the head of a dead rabbit rocking comically against her jaw.
Ah, town girl in the countryside, you cannae beat it.
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