Wildlife

The day the farmers took in the maize, finding the fields clear and easily traversable once more, I walked with Dook up behind the village. Some husky owners believe they should never be let off the lead but a dog bred to run up to 150 miles a day goes through immeasurable suffering if not allowed to run free. Slipping as I made it up the rough shale leasing toward the top area of the nearby disused quarry the dog effortlessly shot passed me. Having seen something I could not he was gone after some trail. Here I question my letting him off the lead as I call out hoping to bring him back. But huskies are not really pets in the way most dogs are. They don't obey like other breeds but instead hear you then decide if it's in thier interest to do your bidding. The prey drive is strong. I hear panting first as he thrashes free from the undergrowth, looking round for some trail or scent he's lost. Then almost silently and unnoticed by the dog a fallow deer springs past me in a series of leaps, close enough to touch. They are relatively common round here. At my other place, not more than two miles from here I see them from my kitchen window at dawn and dusk. Quietly exiting the bushes and moving into the open to look around in trepidation. Two weeks back whilst driving home from the chemist a small muntjac walked across the lane in front of me. This made it three types of deer I'd seen in the last month. The roe deer being the second that come up into the field behind the van when I park up there to sleep. Perhaps my favourite of the three, their short horns balance out the head shape. Rising as is my norm at five thirty I took out Dook with a mind to see the fallow deer last week and felt a slight disappointment to not see them over the fence in the usual place. Yet walking on further I saw why. Two heavy shapes lumbered about on the large grass area that divides the two blocks of housing that face down on to open countryside. Having been so dry this last month the previous nights rain must have brought worms to the surface. The badgers continued feeding until one looked up and saw me watching. They made no haste but gradually returned to the safety of the bushes.

Moving here in the early summer what struck me first was the abundance of house martins. Zipping about, collecting flies caught in parabolic curls to feed their young. Their movement like Christmas decorations draped round the houses. Swallows skirted over the fields not two feet off the ground. The young on fledging sweep past enjoying their skills, testing themselves, coming as close to you as they dare. Impossibly beautiful. On an evening and morning I'd lie in bed where my head lies close to the window. From here I watch the martins come and go. As they arrive to their clay nests the young shriek in hunger. Two broods successfully reared the year ended some six weeks back now. Preparing to leave they group up and one time I saw fifty or more land together on a flat brick gable end. Then in 48 hours from first to last they left for Africa. Now vacated their nests are soon squatted. Finding the place to themselves the sparrows had a party. Trying out the martins nests, showing off manoeuvres they'd not have dared try last week.

Best bird for me this year has been the hobby. I've no doubt I've seen them before but only this year have I become adept at spotting them. The first I saw I thought might be a sparrow hawk as it chased a house Martin in curved linear paths at break neck speed drawing a sphere around a tree the prey sought sanctuary in. But sparrow hawks prefer other methods. Sailing over a hedge before dropping on the unsuspected. Choosing the house martins for prey suggests a pretty smart and fast bird. They circle high up looking down on what is about. Picking out stray birds to catch in flight. I began to see them high up above the fields where I walk the dog. On my birthday was fortunate to see a chase lead to a kill. Most peculiar of all was one afternoon around the time the swallows left I looked out of my front window to see five or six circling together as buzzards sometimes do. They soon dispersed. Who knows why or what they were doing? Perhaps a pair saying fair well to the years offspring.  

Finally I should briefly mention the two birds that characterise the area where the deer are abundant. As I walk into the hills over the road from my other home invariably the screeching and squawking lifts my eyes to the trees. A flash of green will be a wood pecker. Though common enough in the green pockets of Frome where I used to live, they are unavoidable here. A guaranteed sight each day. Their racket only broken by the jays. Equally abundant and working in a similar way these too decorate any walk taken. 

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