Just back from mid west Spain, having tried, and failed, to find wolves. Standing for two hours till sun up and two hours till sun down, for four days, in biting cold, which layer upon layer just couldn't keep out. Full moon. Winter trees. Howling winds. Trails of mist over the hills. Brooding mountains in the distance. Perfect, you would have thought, for a pack to be out hunting for deer. Unless they're well fed, of course, contented with their lot, with not an ache of hunger to nudge them out from under cover. Meanwhile the deer came out to inspect us, morning
and evening, gamboling about in the dew, a more carefree, worry less group you ever did see. Which just about summed it up. I can feel a trip to Transylvania coming on.