The early morning promised a good day. An opportunity to start afresh. To leave depressing world news to those that have the power to do something about it.
My four-legged friend and I set off for the woods. She doesn’t do energetic walks these days, so I wander behind puzzling over what can smell so good down at her level. The lush dew damp grass was inviting on our approach. I could have easily thrown off my walking boots in favour of a barefoot stroll if it weren’t for the prospect of snakes lurking in the undergrowth.
Then peace was shattered. High in the green canopy of sapling oak and birch trees, a battle had broken out. We stood and my eyes strained through the branches to locate the rasping crows. War had broken out. Feathered carrion jets had begun an intense attack on a tawny owl. He sat ducking with each onslaught as it came in from different directions.
I can only think he was a young bird who had not long learnt how to fly and was not quite sure how to deal with this attack. Apparently they depend on their parents for up to three months. Then the alarm call of the blackbird joined the feathered cacophony.
At last some wisdom dawned and the owl spread his wings in search of safety. The villains winged it also to hunt for another victim while the blackbirds continued policing the trees a little longer.
Whoever thinks life in the countryside is quiet and boring, should think again.