It is as we say locally a ‘lazy wind’ meaning, it’s a wind that cuts straight through you, it doesn’t go round. It’s icy underfoot, the sky is brooding and snow laden.
I had to nip to Market Town, it would have been nice to stop and play with the camera, but to be frank it was too bloody cold, I nearly took this shot out of the car window, but was willing to suffer, just a little for my art (jumped out, snap snap jumped back in again) Moments later, this view was lost in a snow squall.
But not as cold as the graves of theses moles, who (after being killed I hope) have been hung on a barbed wire fence.
This is something I have seen all my life, little rows of mole corpses hung out to rot; I haven’t a clue why it’s done, if its just a quaint local custom or the mark of a master mole catcher. I shall ask around and see if I can find out.
If you are unfamiliar with moles,this is what they should look like, they live in holes. I’ll return to the subject, but there is work to be done and I can’t firtle about in blog-land all afternoon, much as I should like to, I just haven’t the time.
A very nice mole man has given me the answer
It is the local mole catcher showing all about him, how good he is at his job. It is an age old custom the trappers of old used to do.
They would hang the moles up to show the farmers what they had caught and so could be paid per mole.
So now we know.