Monday 15 March
Six days away from the start of spring, Saturday 20th March, and the end of my year long blog. I can’t help but smile and think of how fitting that is. In a year as tumultuous and, at times desperate, that it should so fittingly end with the start of the season of hope and rebirth. Hope will be in the air and on everyone’s minds.
As has become customary for a Monday post, I have saved a few prize thoughts and images from my weekend walks. As we pass through the woods, daffodils nod gently on the breeze that bobs and weeves through the trees over their shoulders. I’d like to think that they’re looking at the smartly stacked logs that have been considerately chopped to size and pyramided together. A thoughtful bit of woodland husbandry that has, in its wake, left a clearing that is being replanted with fresh saplings. I am so grateful of our national network of footpaths but equally appreciative of the landowners who allow public access through their land.
As we walked through the woods and out the other side we come to a pasture. A large field of grazing land that, when not inhabited by sheep, becomes the playground for big rabbits and baby rabbits which shoot across the tufted grass like little brown pebbles skimming on a rippling pond.
Then I notice a single, well-defined narrow track. It’s not big enough to have been caused by humans, surely. Animals often share tracks and paths between foraging spaces and can cut a pretty identifiable pathway through a field. The one we saw at the weekend is likely formed by badgers with contributions from other wildlife. Once it has formed a direct means of getting from A to B, many will use it every night. This also runs parallel to a stream, but not enough of a stream for an otter to have made it. And here we were, walking the same narrow track.
I left work this evening and noticed the sky was clear and the stars were just about visible through the haze. Three Canada geese flew overhead honking rhythmically with each massive wind beat. When I got in the car I called Dad, he is so excited to see Mum again tomorrow, and although I can’t see her myself I am quietly comforted that he can. After all this time of being together, then apart, he still gets silly happy about seeing her.
The Bald Birder 