We had come into the wood at dusk, hoping to catch its animals by surprise. For half an hour or so, we stole single file along narrow tracks, holding to the flattened strips through the middle to avoid the hissing swish of grass about our knees. We walked in the tunnel-like rides in quiet procession, purple spires of loosestrife and extravagant white sprays of meadowsweet on either side lighting our way. Numerous animal paths criss-crossed the rides, thin streaks of parted vegetation, but nothing ventured out. Greens turned to grey, the tree outlines became indistinct and once we entered the closed canopy over the dry stream, we were in murky half-light, picking our way over the bare ground thread of a path. Somewhere above, out of sight, crows cleared their cawing throats before going to roost, a wood pigeon uttered a last imploring burst and, far away, a dog barked. Then the wood fell still.
Now there was only our unmeasured tread as we walked and paused, walked on then paused again. From just ahead came a noise. At first, it sounded like an animal rustling ? from up the trees rather than on the ground. As we closed in, the sound became clearer ? an irregular, but constant "chink, chink", unbroken by our approach. We drew as near as we could on the path and listened. It was as if raindrops were falling from a single tree on this warm, dry night. I stepped off the path, wiggling my feet through and over a lattice of bramble undergrowth and scrunched ahead until I was under the raining tree.
Something fell at my feet and I looked up. Under the purple-black sky were smooth, veined beech leaves. I bent over and felt for the object, rolling it in my fingers, a hard shard, stippled on one surface. It was a broken piece of beech nut casing. Under these atmospheric conditions, the parent tree was shedding its barren crop of seeds and husks. As we left in near darkness, we could still hear the pitter-pattering, a thousand little deaths bringing the silent wood to life.
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2011/aug/26/country-diary-cambridgeshire-woodland
No comments:
Post a Comment