'I could hear the purr of a turtle dove'

The cold wind had squandered cherry blossom across the track as I made my way through the copse with the farm on my right. The first cut of silage was already under way, a brief warm spell having brought on the grass before the chill stopped it again.

Grass is one of the most important crops that we grow, and I had already passed fields of lambs, then a field of calves, busy converting it to flesh.

Here I could see the horses through the trees, and noted that they had all lost weight: "dropping off" the horse people call it.

Some of them could afford the weight loss and some were looking almost poor. Although the horse fields are well-sheltered, they had been rather draughty in that bitter wind, though I was quite warm in the woodland, where the high branches had caught up the wind, leaving me sheltered lower down.

In another month, all would be lush and rich; the horses would have a shine on their coats and big grass bellies, the lambs would be looking like sheep and the calves would be rambunctious teenagers.

The ground was hard: we could do with more rain.

Soon the young rooks, the 'branchers', would be testing their wings in these trees.

Time was that country people made pies of the breast meat, grown rooks being too rank even for those hungry days, and you would have to be hungry, I thought, to eat a rook.

In the background, I could hear the purr of a turtle dove, and I hoped that there were two of them, and that they would manage to raise some young. It would be a task and a half with all these corvids about.

Here I saw evidence of new badger work, where badgers have not lived before. Probably this would be one individual, thrown out of the main sett because it was old or sick, though there was just the chance it was a last year's cub.

There was not any more problem with having badgers here than elsewhere on the property; it is the unsavoury characters they bring with them that cause the problems.

I would tell the landowner later, so he could keep an eye on things. And here was evidence that the rabbits were back, in this little corner at least, the recent dry spell having been good for their early breeding.

Semi-circles eaten out of the wheat, blades neatly clipped across by rabbit teeth, and here in the woods, fresh workings of a rabbit kind, among the fallen wood and the bluebells.

The dogs, totally disinterested in badger scent, were galvanised by rabbit smell, pushing through last year's dead leaves and this year's spring growth with their noses down. Ahead, I could hear scurrying, and the sharp double thump of rabbit warning.

Presently the dogs returned, rabbitless but much cheered for their burst of activity, mouths wide in panting grins.

We would not stop at the farmhouse this morning, for it looked like a busy time, so we set our steps downhill, following the glint of water in the brook that was low for the time of year, our way lit by stanchions of yellow archangel among the shades of green.

Foxglove

FieldofView

'˜I could hear

the purr of a turtle dove'

'˜I could hear

the purr of a turtle dove'

WHETHER you cast your clouts by the hawthorn or the date, now is not the time and summer is not yet.

The cold wind had squandered cherry blossom across the track as I made my way through the copse with the farm on my right. The first cut of silage was already under way, a brief warm spell having brought on the grass before the chill stopped it again.

Grass is one of the most important crops that we grow, and I had already passed fields of lambs, then a field of calves, busy converting it to flesh.

Here I could see the horses through the trees, and noted that they had all lost weight: "dropping off" the horse people call it.

Some of them could afford the weight loss and some were looking almost poor. Although the horse fields are well-sheltered, they had been rather draughty in that bitter wind, though I was quite warm in the woodland, where the high branches had caught up the wind, leaving me sheltered lower down.

In another month, all would be lush and rich; the horses would have a shine on their coats and big grass bellies, the lambs would be looking like sheep and the calves would be rambunctious teenagers.

The ground was hard: we could do with more rain.

Soon the young rooks, the '˜branchers', would be testing their wings in these trees.

Time was that country people made pies of the breast meat, grown rooks being too rank even for those hungry days, and you would have to be hungry, I thought, to eat a rook.

In the background, I could hear the purr of a turtle dove, and I hoped that there were two of them, and that they would manage to raise some young. It would be a task and a half with all these corvids about.

Here I saw evidence of new badger work, where badgers have not lived before. Probably this would be one individual, thrown out of the main sett because it was old or sick, though there was just the chance it was a last year's cub.

There was not any more problem with having badgers here than elsewhere on the property; it is the unsavoury characters they bring with them that cause the problems.

I would tell the landowner later, so he could keep an eye on things. And here was evidence that the rabbits were back, in this little corner at least, the recent dry spell having been good for their early breeding.

Semi-circles eaten out of the wheat, blades neatly clipped across by rabbit teeth, and here in the woods, fresh workings of a rabbit kind, among the fallen wood and the bluebells.

The dogs, totally disinterested in badger scent, were galvanised by rabbit smell, pushing through last year's dead leaves and this year's spring growth with their noses down. Ahead, I could hear scurrying, and the sharp double thump of rabbit warning.

Presently the dogs returned, rabbitless but much cheered for their burst of activity, mouths wide in panting grins.

We would not stop at the farmhouse this morning, for it looked like a busy time, so we set our steps downhill, following the glint of water in the brook that was low for the time of year, our way lit by stanchions of yellow archangel among the shades of green.