Mullman

I slept in our garden last night. Why? Well, one only has to look up at the night sky on a clear spring evening with very little light pollution to see why.

Thousands of twinkling stars and the occasional shooting star shone down on me.

I focused on my deep conscious breath until I drifted asleep wrapped up in my sleeping bag, several blankets, hat and scarf.

I woke up for the toilet during the night and could hear the distant wheezy screech of a barn owl. I got back into bed and listened to it as I drifted back to sleep.

I was awoken in the morning by an unfamiliar angry bird call but, as I awoke more into this land where dreams come true, I realised it was not a bird but, instead, one of our wonderful shy and rarely seen mammals.

I have not seen a stoat in years so I was very happy to hear one coming from the wild overgrown garden next door.

It yikkered “angrily for some unseen and unheard reason for a few minutes before stopping.

My attention was then drawn to the dawn chorus that was reaching an impressive and deafening crescendo. Drumming and chipping snipe made up the percussion, accompanied by an electronic synth in the form of lapwing. I could hear at least three song thrushes singing at different layers, but the nearest to me was singing covers.

First, an accurate rendition of buzzards latest track, followed by curlew and oystercatcher. Blackbird, wren, robin, pheasant, geese, more song thrush and other artists that were hard to isolate all singing at once to make up this most beautiful song. A hoodie landed on a fencepost right beside me and let out a loud caw, which frightened me half to death then fl ew away when I jumped.

The crow seemed to signal the end of the dawn chorus

A sea eagle’s call fell upon my ears from its distant nest wood where they are now incubating

Sea eagle. Photograph: John Speirs.

and it faded away. I don’t think I have ever heard such a beautiful one; each one a unique and original hit.

There was now enough light to see, so I got up, made my morning coffee, repositioned my bed to the front door patio and wrapped myself up with my binoculars to see what I could see.

The bird song continued; a skylark had taken up the mike.

An early female hen harrier fl ew into view, hunting the rushy fi elds below our house. It drifted by a couple of red deer hinds with calves from last year and the year before catching the fi rst rays of sun. As I followed the harrier with the sea scape behind, the islands of Inch Kenneth and the distant sacred Isle of Iona drifted by.

A sea eagle’s call fell upon my ears from its distant nest wood where they are now incubating and I scanned around to see an adult bird rising up from the wood, off to hunt for breakfast. Another passing raptor caught my eye so I switched to that.

A large female sparrowhawk circled higher and higher and a resident buzzard joined it nearby.

The three quarters moon was fading behind and I heard the distant seven whistle call of a whimbrel. I sat there with my, by now cold, coffee and soaked up the splendour before my children woke and disturbed natures ‘peace’. They, too, are part of nature’s wonder, but not nearly so relaxing because they demand breakfast and morning cuddles.

My Mullman website is now up and running at mullman. co.uk featuring my wildlife tours by foot and/or vehicle, overnight cave camping adventures with campfi re, foraging, bushcraft and other rewilding experiences.

These articles are not rewarded with the instant gratifi cation and likes of my facebook addiction so I am especially grateful for the messages of thanks I am getting from readers who enjoy my passionate wildlife ramblings.