Outdoors Les Davies MBE

West Countryman’s diary

DARKER mornings and evenings are with us and the hint of morning mist below Glastonbury Tor tells me that autumn is on the way. Within a week the temperature has dropped and the land is slowly recovering from the relentless burning sun. I sat and watched a thunderstorm from my upstairs office window. How comforting that was, knowing I wasn’t outside, but instead an onlooker from the comfort of my home.

Protected by the double glazed window I watched the lightning, both sheet and forked, light up the evening sky whilst the thunder rumbled ever closer. Finally the rain arrived in sheets, tumbling across the top of my garden shed and filling the collection of tin baths, buckets and tubs that I had left in hope of its arrival.

Once this late summer tempest had vented its fury it disappeared over Mendip and onto who knows where to do the same again. From the west a bright light shone as the sun peered through a gap in the clouds. Almost as if asking forgiveness for the outburst, it sank below the horizon to begin someone else’s day on the other side of the world.

I always look upon the arrival of autumn as being something special. It is I feel nature’s way of preparing us gently for the winter months ahead and giving us the last fine, sunny days, but without the ferocity of high summer. It’s time to bring in the harvests and prepare for the dark, cold days ahead.

The wildlife is doing just that. In my front garden a decidedly tatty looking blackbird searches and listens for subterranean movement during his daily search for food. A male, he has no doubt been run ragged during the long nesting season.

He and his equally family worn partner will have raised two broods. Searching for food to feed the ever demanding beaks would have been non-stop. I wonder if he will make it through the winter and can he find enough to feed himself before its onset.

Equally weather beaten and worn down in the back garden, sits a male wood pigeon. Somewhat “punk” in appearance, this bird resembles a “busted pillow” with feathers sticking out all over. It sits on the edge of a cotoneaster bush in a vain attempt to drive off any competition for the berries.

I have seen this with other birds who expend so much time and energy chasing off the competition, they have no time to eat. Inevitably some other birds will get through and before long the stock of berries becomes depleted, leaving nothing for the frantic defender who has become stressed out beyond belief . . . A life lesson here I think!

All creatures great and small (to paraphrase a famous hymn) need this time to prepare for winter. Some will hibernate, some will go into semi-hibernation and others into survival mode. Time spent in planning and reconnaissance is seldom wasted, as I was told by the army.

I thought there was a rodent visitor in the house. Things that go “bump” in the night and odd sounds are no strangers to me in this

With LES DAVIES MBE old house, so I didn’t give much thought to such things recently. That was until I woke one morning to find the waste paper basket beneath my desk upturned and some seashells from the plant pot beside the shower turned out. The basket may well have been down to me inadvertently catching it with my leg, but not the shells. I did find some droppings that were rodent-like, so I called in the rodent man. He arrived and was very helpful in setting out bait traps to see what I had. He was doubtful about a rat, but time would tell. In the early hours of the following morning I woke to strange scratching and scrabbling sounds in my bedroom. With trepidation I turned the light on and looked out of the bed to see the culprit . . . there on the carpet was a hedgehog! It stood motionless and then slowly looked up at me before turning around and waddling off to the bathroom. I was out of the bed, closing the bathroom door and off downstairs for a bucket and pair of gloves. My house guest was taken and released outside the back door where it disappeared amongst the pot plants. An inspection the following morning revealed our “Herbie” must have been in the house for a couple of days. What it ate and drank is still a mystery. What was of wonderment is how it had negotiated the stairs. Was this a Special Forces Hedgehog, trained in covert operations, equipped with ropes and climbing equipment? What’s also a mystery is how it got in. Maybe looking for winter quarters or trying to get out of the hot weather. As my dear old mother would have said: “Well that was then and this is now”. Herbie is still living in my garden and patrols a few others as well. Being fed on cat biscuits and plenty of slugs, life must seem pretty good. I’ve been informed by a neighbour that it’s laying up by day in their porch. My mother loved hedgehogs . . . is it her, re-incarnated, keeping an eye on things? This month’s picture just had to be “Herbie”. Also note the slug trying hard not to get noticed! I’m adding a postscript in light of the death of Queen Elizabeth. Much has already been said and a country is mourning her as the rock of stability and shining light of guidance who has for many of us been there forever. We now enter a new beginning of our nation’s future. In a world of strife and turmoil we are lucky to live in this country. It may not be perfect, but it is so much better than many others in the world. Only tomorrow will show us what it holds, but everything happens for a reason.