strongyle
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Grit where it’s needed
Six weeks ago, I set up some grit stations for the grouse. Working on the basis of where I last saw the birds, I turned over six peat turfs within ten acres of moorland and covered the exposed black soil with flint grit. When I went up to check them this morning, only one has Continue reading
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“Shout on, Morgan. You’ll be nothing tomorrow”
Swn y galon fach yn torri, 1952
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