Who's fooling who?

Another day, another garden. This one occupies a sheltered valley site close by me, beside a charming old house. It was originally created in the early 19th century by a local antiquary and historian who was an associate of all the main literati of the day. He had grottoes and winding paths hacked out of the hillside, installed a resident hermit and invited his celebrated friends to come and rhapsodize over the landscape, sketchbook and pen in hand.

In the next century the place was taken over by a jovial country squire whose interests lay in the direction of hunting, shooting and fishing. Kennels and stables were added on and when his best animals died he had them buried in the grounds under memorials adorned with sentimental epitaphs, in both English and Latin verse. Several of these remain, addressed to faithful hounds and to his favourite mare.

There is also this single stone pillar beside the stream, bearing the words
FORASS ESTO RUBON (see it LARGE.) This motto has proved a puzzle to many a scholarly mind: encyclopedias, dictionaries and classical works have been scoured in search of its meaning but it appears to have none. It looks like Latin, but it is not.

Well, who can make sense of it? The clue lies in the creatures seen alongside.

And in the fact that this is my entry for this week's Challenge!