Scottish Climbers: Scrabble

Scrabble

Our eyes met. Neither moved. Slowly the slender leg of the heron reached forward and delicately stepped closer to the water. Still our eyes locked, and yet the heron was simply not there….. an illusion of idealism in a world of silent beauty adjacent to the jetstream of human activity.

But it is was there, it just took me too long to see it. A chance connection, a fleeting moment like the light at 2 ends of a tunnel meeting, the alluring goddess stepping back into the shadows. The frail form a ghost drifting away against the landscape. A fleeting moment past, but a moment etched. A perfect symmetry with the previous day’s fateful encounter.

Our eyes met for a split second as the fox glanced back. Nothing registered. On it trotted, head down, hood covering a sly smile spreading across its face, eyes glinting in the morning sun. The predator knowing another unsuspecting victim stood no chance. An easy kill. Another satisfying meal. Some kills are easier than others, but this was beyond belief. The slow patient approach, the distracted prey, the predator in plain sight. If only I could see what was hidden in plain sight.

And then it registered. By but by then it was too late, far too late. The simple equation of what was happening hit me like a sucker punch in the gut. A wave of sickness, weak knees and anger enveloped me. Forcing my legs straight, I had to stay upright. A forced smile for a good man….. ‘Hi Tim, how’s it going?’ The pray stood no chance. By now the fox was nowhere to be seen. The easy pray.

Content with having been well and truly bent over, Ally and I played kiddies games and settled for a consolation game of Scrabble, all the while eyeing up the big boys game with envy. A full word score later we topped out and descended into the coire.

‘Have you a number 6 cam Andy?’ The fox howled down with laugher. Bastard.

Onward the heron drifted into the horizon....