The sky was a rough patchwork cloud, greys with shades of blue, and near the horizon a gold yellow was trying to break through from behind. The mood of the wind was immediately apparent, it was more intense than yesterday when it had been as playful as Lady. Today it meant business, it came straight for us from the west as we followed the track that skirted the village next to the expanse of field that leads to the forest. In the other direction the two giant wind turbines were fully concentrated on their work, no time to gaze around this morning.
While in the village I had been aware of bird song coming from the shelter of gardens. The most visible sign of bird life was the small flock of starlings, a small-walnut-tree-full-sized small flock, very small compared to what I used to see sweeping through the winter skies at dusk in the UK. Skylarks will soon be a feature of walking the track across the field, their calling heard long before I am able to locate them by eye.
I know so little about birdsong, on our return journey I asked Lady if she listens to bird song, does she understand it? She looked at me, how was she to explain to me, a simpleton who communicates by mere words...............
Such is farming.
4 days ago