Filva and Vitamin sporting the season’s latest - the Fair Isle for ponies. 

The hitchhikers on the road between Shieldaig and Applecross are a bit rough…

A highland coo.  These animals are not to be trifled with as one of my acquaintance lost her sister to just such a beast.  I will spare you the details but fluffy and cuddly are not words I would use to describe them.  Curious. Hardy. Admirably adapted to their environment…..not cuddly though.  

(Photo credit to Frank Heumann, click here for source.)

Black and white photography is always striking.  

Cast all romantic notions of heather aside, this is it’s real use - a bed for a hairy beast.  Consider that next time you feel moved to pluck a bunch of it.  

Please see ‘The Silencers’ video that goes with this image.  Click on link to view.

(All photo credit to Frank Heumann,

 http://www.facebook.com/pages/MySkye-Isle-of-Skye/295648613811870)

One last peep from me.  I’ve posted this video before because I love it so much, a favourite song and I like the low budget video, it has tremendous quirky charm.  For the video/music lovers, its “The Silencers,” version of “The Wild Mountain Thyme,” a Scottish or Irish folk song, depending on which story you believe.  It was filmed in Lochranza, on the Isle of Arran.  It’s a lovely song, one line in it, “And we’ll all go together, to pull wild mountain thyme, all around the blooming heather…”  When I saw this photo, I couldn’t help but laugh imagining tourists and their romantic notions, plucking heather for the front grilles of their cars as I’ve seen so many times before.  Then I imagined this beast, plunked in the middle of yon heather - too funny!

(Due to technological ignorance, photo to follow now.)

Black faced sheep near Plockton, Lochalsh.  They are hardy souls, thriving on often inadequate grazing.  They make great Mothers, will see off any threat without hesitation.  They are also the backbone of the Scottish sheep industry, their fleece which is springy and coarse can be found in many Axminster and Wilton carpets.  I once had a black faced sheep named after me, for her apparent ‘dignity, bearing and obvious intelligence.’  I don’t know what happened to Stephanie the Sheep, last I heard, she was sold to someone called Catriona the Hen, but that’s another story.  

(Photo credit goes to Frank Heumann, Sheep Whisperer Extraordinaire)