Anyone know where the Arc is?

As I sit here, paws poised at the key board, I have to confess it is raining once more. Guests here at Cortijo Opazo often ask me: "What is the best time of year to come?" Difficult question, of course. For a dachshund, then any time that the fire might be alight is good for me, but I understand our guests usually want a little more than a comfy spot from which to read a book. January, for those who like to get out and about, is usually fabulous. The days are sunny, the skies clear, and the snow capped mountains add drama to the landscape. So far this year the landscape has largely been hidden by cloud, snow and rain. The reservoirs of Andalucia are said to have enough water to last until the end of 2011, so is enough enough? Most of Europe, it would seem, is currently covered in snow so I guess we should consider ourselves lucky that in this corner of the continent we can still get about.

Ella and I are spending much of the day indoors, waiting for the fire to be lit. Ella is driving herself, and the two tall ones, mad by wanting to go out, then scratching on the door to come in from the rain. I, on the other hand, am more reflective and spend my days thinking of the season that surely lies ahead, when the sun will warm us and the almond blossom will flower on the hillside.

There are, of course, more useful things Ella could be doing than looking for sticks to pester people with. She could, for example, become a vigilante guard, patrolling the land in order to ward off the unwelcome night time intruders that have arrived. I am speaking of the Jabali, or wild boar, that have been driven down from the high mountains by the cold weather and are looking for food. I have no idea what they think they might find under the soil of a well planted ornamental garden, but there's something they are after. It was only a matter of time, but it has happened. They crept up to the house under cover of night and have dug up a part of our well tended lawn, carved up the turfs with their strong tusks. William has made repairs, and all is well again, but it's a serious business.


To ensure it doesn't happen again I have observed the two tall ones taking preventative measures. They haven't shared their plan with me yet, but thin posts have been erected around the garden and a sort of metallic tape has been suspended from them. There is a box that has the title 'Electric Shepherd' on it, and this is connected to an electric plug socket. At night, it is turned on and makes a quiet 'clicking' sound. In the morning it is turned off again and so far, the wild boar have not returned. I don't know what particular powers this rather thin piece of tape holds but it seems to work; I would investigate in person, but I don't like to venture out into the wet. I must ask Ella if she will stick her nose into it to find out more.

Yours, thinking of spring,

Fergus