Day 126

Friday 24 July

It was my last day at work today and I am going to miss my daily drives down to Heybridge. We’ve got a fantastic month or so ahead of relaxation and trying to take stock of what has happened over the past few months.

I’m going to head down there this summer though to do a few walks and just check-in with the school and the outdoor space. There’s the coastal area and the canal and river stretches as well as the expanses of green spaces dominated by agriculture.

My drive to and from Heybridge takes about 35/40 minutes each way. Enough time to prepare for what is ahead and to reflect and unwind from what has happened that day.

The journeys often throw up sights and signs that trigger a thought or a moment of contemplation. Sometimes these will put a smile on my face, some will spark a memory, occasionally a feeling of melancholy.

A few days ago I came around a bend in one of the rural stretches of road and had to swerve slightly to avoid running over a wood pigeon. My wheels tracked either side of it as it seemed to drag itself across the tarmac. In my rear view mirror a few feathers flew into the air, caught in the car’s dirty air. My immediate thought was to pull over and rescue the bird. But it was clearly in some trouble already, probably injured by another car.

I felt for it – the trauma being experienced by this two-a-penny bird. There are loads of pigeons and, although I know that the species is not going to decline because of this one fatality, nevertheless it was a bird that was suffering. When it woke that morning it had no idea that that would be it’s last one. What was painful for me, was its death was being drawn out.

It would be very easy to take some deep (and contrived) meaning or lesson from all of this. Pointless. Instead, I will look at the wood pigeon in a very different way now. I won’t take them for granted, collectively or individually. I am grateful for each and every one. Their flight whimsies, their coo-coos, their nodding heads, their clapping wings and the clumsy sounding way they exit from trees when startled. I love the pigeon.