Antique Rogue and Rascal movie

Having missed the short lure coursing meet yesterday at Fire Hill, we thought we would post this little antique movie of Rogue and Rascal plodding around the fields instead and ask ‘Whatever happened to winter?’

As a reminder for the next coursing event - all you deerhound owners note that on the 27th of December 2009 will see the final lure coursing event of the year. Contact Sue on this link. We’ll see you there.

Oh . . . and happy St Andrews day!

Deerhounds Join the Ceilidh!

Come all you deerhounds and human companions who follow our blog and join the world’s biggest ceilidh for St Andrews day. Upload your photographs, then custom select your outfit and get foot tapping and kilt swirling to our auld friend Sandy Brechin.

Click on this link to visit our highland fling or visit scotland.org/ceilidh and use the search window to find Rogue and Rascal. Get yourself started by selecting the join the party button and make sure you have a couple of snaps handy on your computer to upload and edit into the dance - it’s easy.

We look forward to seeing you there.

Let the sun shine in

Rogue, Rascal, the floods and the heart of a deer.

Hey! here in Scotland it’s rain, rain everywhere, and as they say; ‘if it keeps on raining the levee is gonna break’ and our local river is gonna add extra depth to the already flooded fields. It’s not misery for all though, Rogue and Rascal have been enjoying this ‘animals two by two’ event, and had a running riot of a time in the wash. With them creating a playground of this little haunt of our local Roe Deer, I have included a fable looking at it from the deer point of view. Enjoy.

The Deer and his mother A fable (Aphthonius 17).

A deer was being lectured by his mother, “Why do you act this way my child? You have been naturally endowed with horns, and are powerfully built, so I cannot understand why you run away at the approach of the hounds. That is what the mother said. Then when she heard the sound of the hunting dogs in the distance, she again urged her child to stand firm while she herself took of at a run.

It is easy to advise action which cannot be carried out.

Did you know - in Ancient Greece the deer was perceived as the proverbial coward (e.g. Homer, Iliad, Achiles denounces Agememnon for having ‘the Heart of a deer’), but for a deer, when you are pursued by a brace of hungry hounds - flight is no doubt the better option than to stand fast, I’m sure.

Bob Dylan and Deerhounds ?

Just when you thought that Bob Dylan was the poetic folk genius and that A Hard Rain‘s A Gonna Fall was one of the original all time American classics.

Jings! It turns oot to be culled from a Scottish Border tale, post-hunt, with deerhounds & hawk and all, and featuring a dastardly poisoning. All this from a song entitled Lord Randall.

The lyric is believed to be about Thomas Randolph 1st Earl of Moray, Nephew to Robert the Bruce and a signee to the Declaration of Arbroath. He died of a sudden illness at Musselburgh in 1332, which was thought to have been poisoning due to circumstances and the fact that he was on his way to do battle with Edward Balliol at the time.

If you would like to purchase a recorded rendition of Lord Randall, the Scottish tradditional folk piece - follow this link to the Smithsonian Folkways and purchase the CD, MP3 or Cassette and enjoy . . .

Lord Randall

"O where ha you been, Lord Randal, my son?
And where ha you been, my handsome young man?"
"I ha been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down."

"An wha met ye there, Lord Randal, my son?
And wha met ye there, my handsome young man?"
"O I met wi my true-love; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down."

"And what did she give you, Lord Randal, My son?
And wha did she give you, my handsome young man?"
"Eels fried in a pan; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi huntin, and fein wad lie down."

"And what gat your leavins, Lord Randal my son?
And wha gat your leavins, my handsome young man?"
"My hawks and my hounds; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi huntin, and fein wad lie down."

"And what becam of them, Lord Randal, my son?
And what becam of them, my handsome young man?
"They stretched their legs out and died; mother mak my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down."

"O I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal, my son!
I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man!"
"O yes, I am poisoned; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and fain wad lie down."

"What d'ye leave to your mother, Lord Randal, my son?
What d'ye leave to your mother, my handsome young man?"
"Four and twenty milk kye; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down."

"What d'ye leave to your sister, Lord Randal, my son?
What d'ye leave to your sister, my handsome young man?"
"My gold and my silver; mother mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, an I fain wad lie down."

"What d'ye leave to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?
What d'ye leave to your brother, my handsome young man?"
"My houses and my lands; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down."

"What d'ye leave to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?
What d'ye leave to your true-love, my handsome young man?"
"I leave her hell and fire; mother mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down."