Life in general is about assessing risk – just different types. Whether crossing the road, preparing a meal or trying a new experience (bungee jumping?), we may all assess risk without actually realising it. There is speculation as to whether it was Einstein who actually stated “The definition of insanity is doing something over and over again and expecting a different result”, but regardless of who did say it, it rings true. It is especially true in assessing risk because if we consistently apply the same mind set when doing so, we’re unlikely to assess the risk landscape holistically, and so my story begins…..
As we all do, I like to get away to the woods for a whole weekend to chill. Sometimes this involves nothing more than sitting around a smoky fire appreciating nature and chatting. Recently though, a small group of us met up at a friend’s 19 acres of woodland, conveniently placed for me, in the East Midlands. We were helping him with some coppicing.
This activity involves “sharps” (folding knives, fixed blade knives, axes, machetes/parangs and chainsaws) and the risks understood. As a slight aside, having had to deal with someone else’s chainsaw accident in my late teens, my risk treatment for this particular tool is to avoid. A lot.
Then there’s the environment itself. Plenty of trip hazards, mud, water (both surface and precipitation), cold temperatures, fire and on this occasion, Benny.
Benny is our young Staffordshire Bull Terrier, perhaps better described as a “Staffordshire Bull-in-a-china-shop Terrier”. Typical risks for Benny are not checking the patio door is open when running in from the garden and falling down the back of the settee when nosing out of the living room window. Whilst neither of these should pose a risk to him in a woodland environment, there are lots of other things that do pose a risk. Given Benny’s main focus in 19 acres of woodland is chasing sticks, the risk assessments on this particular trip were down to me. Anyway, it seemed like a good idea to take him.
The overnight temperatures were forecast to be below zero so adequate accommodation was clearly key. Last time me and Benny spent the night in a hammock under a “tarp” it didn’t end well (but that’s another story). I’d decided to use the same tarp configuration as I would in a hammock, but on the ground and to the casual observer this would appear to be a small ridge tent. Therein I’d got Benny a sleeping bag to use as a cover and another spare (plus my kit). Being a short coated breed, I’d taken Benny’s coat for him, for use when not sleeping.
During the evening around the fire, I had completely failed to risk assess the possibility of someone commandeering my chair. Whilst upright in order to fill another wholemeal wrap with chilli-con-carni, Benny took full advantage of the small window of opportunity and my chair was occupied by him! The risk impact on this occasion was very minor so I shall move on.
Following our retirement for the night, in theory it should have been as simple as waiting for Benny to settle and then cover him with his designated sleeping bag. At first it was.
At around 05:00 the following morning, the temperature was at its lowest and Benny tricked me into thinking he wanted to nip outside to answer the call of nature.
What he actually had in mind was to nip off to the fire and get into a chair (evidenced by paw prints on someone else's chair!) where conditions were more favourable. By then of course the fire had pretty much gone out and without his coat, what little heat Benny had was very soon gone. He came charging back a few minutes later visibly shivering.
The risk treatment here was to get the pair of us into my sleeping bag where our combined body heat would soon do the trick. Again my assessment was slightly lacking as the dog got in head first. Not a problem other than the fact his tail end was pointing my way and at certain times his digestive system can best be described as “silent but violent”, but this risk was quickly mentally accepted in return for warmth and more sleep.
In my effort to ensure we were completely sheltered from the elements, I had configured the tarp to be quite cosy and thus the inside was completely covered in condensation by the morning. On my own this would not pose a problem but Benny was up with tail wagging, walking around, bashing the sides. It was as good as raining inside and the bedding was getting wet. Oh and did I mention it was snowing outside too? Being wet in a cold environment is best avoided but thankfully being Sunday morning, it was unlikely we’d need the bedding again and in any case I still had a spare sleeping bag.
From my perspective though, the lesson has now been learned and mentally recorded. I shall always assess risk slightly differently in the future – even if it is from the view point of a “Staffordshire Bull-in-a-china-shop Terrier”.
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sounds like Benny enjoyed himself too much
Originally Posted by bopdude
