Whinlatter Top

A quiet day catching up with office work, with a short drive out with my colleague to replace a squirrel feeding box that had been gnawed to shreds in fits of frustration when the food runs out. In one way, for a creature with the brain the size of a walnut, red squirrels are very intelligent, as it stands to reason that if the top of the box is empty you might be able to find some more food, or another way in, if you gnaw under the box. However, they do not seem to learn that this tactic has never ben successful.
After work on the way up to Whinlatter top I walked by another feeder, full this time, with three squirrels eating and frisking around it. One decided to go elsewhere, and as I was standing still,  it passed with in a yard of my feet. I did wonder if it was contemplating climbing up my legs! Incidents like this are very heart-warming  because, although they are fed, we don't want them to become habituated and so they stay quite shy of people generally.

The moorland Top is such a contrast to the forest.  Looking down into the Pass the conifers appear to have been combed into lines, whilst the moorland looks purple-dyed with a frizz. I could hear a family of young fledged kestrels calling for food but they stayed ahead of me flitting at ground level over the brow of the next ridge and the next and there was no sign of an adult hunting. 
Compared with the tumble of people there had been all day at the Visitor Centre, there was not another soul up there and I walked along the ridge with the sound of the wind and meadow pipets until a rain squall hooshed over from Grisedale and I jogged back, meeting a long legged hare crossing my path on the way down. A good way to end a peaceful day.