Home

Two hours before sunrise and an insistent and regular barking call echoed around the village. I gradually tuned in, at first subconsciously and then awake. My first thought was that a fox was marking its’ territory. But it was only late Summer and the fox generally calls during those crisp and frosty Winter nights.   Besides, this call lacked the scream note that is characteristic of the vixen’s call. This was had a more guttural note. Whatever it is was initially progressing west along the old railway line, the call getting more distant, until at some point it turned and covered the same ground again. It dawned on me that it could only be a deer. Probably one of the Roebucks from Keeper’s Wood. The combine harvester had just cut the wheat surrounding the wood and the deer horizons had extended. It is the rutting season and this buck was spreading his message and clearly announcing his presence. With this thought I went back to sleep.  

This weekend the skies are emptier. The Swifts which, for the last four months have blazed around the cottage roofs, have headed south. Or so I assume. In the past, after seeming to have left they have reappeared for a final joyful circuit. Not this year. Although I expect to see some more birds as they pass through from more northerly summers.

In their place flocks of Jackdaws and Rooks roll around the country gleaning what they can from the newly harvested fields. Jackdaws always seem to me to be positive and high-spirited in their approach to life. Their calls ricochet around the village as they set of in the morning and later, once again as they return to roost.