"Make each day your masterpiece."
~ John Wooden
|Couldn't resist the reflection!|
Mudflats are called MUDFLATS for a reason.
Just as I can’t go to the beach without getting wet,
so can I NOT go on the mudflats without getting muddy.
The hound loves it.
The more mud there is, the dirtier we get.
Shags aren’t that keen on mud.
As the tide heads out and exposes the mud, they take sanctuary in the trees.
I don’t blame them.
Those white feathers must be a bugger to keep clean.
As they pimped and preened themselves, I indulged my crocodile obsession.
I don’t mind the mud, especially when I’m in pursuit of one of my feathered friends. The more elusive they are, the further into the mud I generally have to trek. On the mudflats though, you don’t even need to be in stalk mode to get muddy.
We had mud up to our knees and more. Extricating oneself from the mud without losing ones shoes is an art in itself. We had ample practise on Saturday and then practised some more.
|This is BEFORE we sunk up to our knees in thick gloopy mud!|
We laughed a lot too.
... and exited the mudflats a different colour to what we’d arrived.
Washing the hound down was a decidedly dirty affair.
Not ONLY did she bring home lots of mud but she ALSO bought home a NEW ball.
A full-size RUGBY ball.
It’s not the first time we’ve found discarded balls on the beach.
|Waiting for some air to be released from her newly acquired toy!|
It couldn’t have come at a better time as Sam had chewed a
hole in the hound’s ball on the way to Takapuna on Friday.
All the better to get the bladder out!
As is their wont when together, they swop balls.
The hound takes the Chief’s ball and Sam has the ball he's now chewed a hole in.
Rugby balls with holes in them soon fill up with water.
Sinking becomes their preferred objective.
Tomorrow on the beach should be interesting.
"Happiness does not breed in captivity nor does it diminish when it is given away.
On the contrary, merely by sowing happiness, we increase our quota."
~ Paulo Coelho
~ Paulo Coelho