keeping track of things

The hard frost over the snow has let me wander off-piste so to speak, able to leave the straight and narrow and crunch my way over field and moor.

Up at the edge of the moor the sky was the colour that used to be associated with Mr Reckitt with wispy cirrus clouds but, on the northern horizon, there was a lowering bank of cumulus with snow in its folds.

I amused myself by trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to identify the animal and bird tracks in the snow. Some were easy, the lines of runes left by the local pheasantry, the neat prints of Mr Fox’s nocturnal searches and the dainty pockets in the snow of the roe deer.

Pheasant

It was obvious where deer had left one field and crossed the road into another, seeking shelter in the lea of a hedge, perhaps, so, fired with boy-scout enthusiasm, I followed on.

Feeling like a hunter I stalked my quarry although the illusion was somewhat dented when a fellow walker, spotting my camera said,
“There are some deer near the river. You might get some pictures”

I’m convinced I would have tracked them on my own!

With a bit of stealth, I did get within bow shot of one and felt that, if I were a Neolithic archer, I might have dined on venison even if I had had a bit of help on the way.

My unsuspecting prey

A better picture

Today is the winter solstice and my Neolithic antecedent would have been celebrating the sunrise. This is the true turning point of the year. Christmas, Hogmanay and all the other festivals are human constructs of religious, political or administrative origin. Gaia doesn’t know when they are but she does know when we have reached the nadir and things are looking up. The new year begins now.

Midwinter sunrise, December 21st 2009

Happy solstice!