
We have many volunteers here in the Teign valley, some come and go but some remain for many years. For volunteers, service medals are available for 5, 10 , 15 years etc. to recognise all their hard work. If asked, most here would say that Gerald is our longest serving volunteer, having done over 8 years with us. But there is another whose length of service is equal, and taken as a proportion of his life, much longer (8 times longer in fact). I refer to Dougal, Geralds' faithful (and hard of hearing) spaniel.
Dougal was a fixture long before I started here, it was well established that once put in the landrover after a job, he would autograph every seat with his muddy paws before settling for the drivers position.
Being (selectively?) hard of hearing he would often wander off on his own and have to be fetched back, meanwhile the wood would resound to calls of Dougal! Dooougal! DOUGAL! Perhaps he felt our legs and voices needed more exercise.
When it came to machinery, Dougal was blissfully unaware of any danger to himself, and he would regularly have to be physically carried from under the tracks or tyres of heavy machinery, the same was true of his road sense.
When tree felling, a double check had to be made to ensure that Dougal was secure or otherwise occupied, as he liked to wander under the tree at the last minute before it fell. I did once consider fitting him for a Hi Vis jacket to make him easier to see.
His favourite hobby when I first knew him was to stick his nose as far down a likely hole as he could, and drink in any smells with short, sharp sniffs. Such activity would keep him enterained for hours.
His bravery was legendary, he would bark at any other dogs, large or small which he did not like the look of, though he preferred to do this from a safe distance or from the Landrover. I remember him particularly standing up to two Rottweilers three times his size... who were securely contained behind a wooden gate.
He particularly enjoyed tea break when he might be allowed to sample whatever biscuits may have been placed in the tin, and lunch times when his dog biscuits emerged from Geralds' lunchbox.
Over the last year or so he preferred to sit in the Landrover rather than wander about on site, for which I think Gerald was secretly slightly grateful (and considerably less hoarse).
So it is that our story comes to an end, for Dougal, after a suspected stroke, was put to sleep. He will be much missed here, and work here in the Teign valley will seem emptier (and quieter) for his passing.