The Tuesday tree: the path through the woods
A warm noon, overcast with a hint of rain to come. Beech and birch mix with Douglas firs to the right and a few small yews up ahead. The path is knobbly underfoot with fir cones and last year’s beech nuts. Beside the path, the bracken hides young pheasants, newly released from their rearing pens. The birds explode from their cover as the dogs nose them out, taking off in a clatter of wings across the fields to the left, the hens calling with high squeaks of alarm.
As we make our way up the path, a roe buck springs suddenly up the bank on the left. He lands a few feet ahead, as startled as we are, then turns to bound away up the track to escape pursuit in the fields. Streaking after him on little furry legs goes our West Highland terrier, David in dauntless pursuit of Goliath.
Another walk through these woods is described in Pheasant Philosophy.