The Call of Nature
Monday, 27 August 2018
6am. Sussex. Nature called. I glanced out of the window on the way to the loo, slightly disgruntled about leaving my snugness. Yesterday had been pretty much rained off. Now a lithe russet form picked his way over the grass, delicately placing each step as if he was nervous of wetting his tiny feet. He was alone. He looked like he’d had his nose in a bucket of black paint. He was nervous, but not of the dampness. He grazed a bit, checked, walked a few paces, checked, listened, froze, moved on, ate more and so slowly progressed along the lush edge of the pond. Two weeks ago this had been a rare green oasis amidst a desert of shrivelled grass, and the best grass was still here.
I watched, taking in his athletic form, his elegant head, his diminutive pointy antlers. Momentarily I thought I would grab my camera but opted simply to enjoy the scene. I pushed open the window. His head came up. He looked straight towards the sound I’d made but I froze and soon he carried on grazing. There was the coo-coo-coo-c-coo of tens of Wood Pigeons, the squawk of an insomniac owl. An odd sound made the Roe deer start. He ran a couple of paces then resumed his grazing while my eyes were drawn to a young Moorhen sprinting across the pond, its over-large feet splat-splatting on the water, leaving puddles of darkness in the livid duckweed. A Wood Pigeon flapped overhead. A small brown bird flittered between hawthorn and willow. Stately oaks stood like kindly uncles keeping watch. Leaning out of the window I tried to ignore my bladder, but as the Roe Deer meandered towards the forest edge and further from me, I knew I had to yield to the call of Nature.
Posted:
27/08/2018 06:52:36 by
cmsadmin | with
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forest,
Roe Deer,
Sussex,
West Sussex