Dark has fallen and the glow of civilisation blots out the sky, the night indistinguishable from a hundred other nights.
But leave the lights of the city behind, venture into the primeval forests and the night takes on personality and a unique feel, no two ever being quite the same.
Silent lightning flickered in the night sky. It had been completely invisible beneath the street lighting, but out here in the dark woods the show of natural electricity was very apparent.
The woods lit up briefly, its inky blackness transformed for a split second into over exposed highlights and crisp black shadows as lightning raced overhead. The soft blur of darkness returned hiding details, shadows shifted.
The dogs for their part explored and snuffled unconcerned by the energetic weather.
The forest was still, a rare touch of a breeze across the tree tops making them sigh, but otherwise things were quiet. The storm that was sending out its flickering light had passed some time ago and now squatted on the far off horizon, too distant for its grumbles to be heard, but its lightning was readily apparent in the high dark.
The mutts galloped off into the deeper woods leaving me temporarily on my own. Lightning flickered again, the stark change in shadows making the forest seem to weave and grasp. Around me things moved. The night rustled with the faint sounds of shifting feet and scurries of passing animals. Whether the storm had set the unseen denizens to activity or the stillness made their sounds more apparent who can say.
The night is alive tonight I muttered to myself into the darkness. I followed the dogs deeper into the woods and as another flicker of lightning lit up the woods I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I suppressed a shiver.
Hmmm.
Bouncing around with their usual energy the mutts circled a broken tree stump, the remnants of some long fallen wooden sentry. Snuffling noses quested through the leaf litter leading their blindly following paws in a meandering path through the trees.
I paused by the stump to stretch and catch a breath.
The stump some 3 feet high had an indentation in its top - set at an angle it formed a large bowl like formation and within it, something odd.
In the pitch dark it was impossible to make out anything more than generalities, but something didn't seem to be quite right. I flicked on the torch.
A large toad blinked at me seemingly quite at peace in its wooden bowl. I pondered how on earth it had got 3 feet off the ground, it wasn't a hoppity frog, this was more of a lolloping toad.
The mutts returned, finished with their sniffing. The boy wondered what I was looking at - he couldn't see the toad from the floor. Rising on his back legs he gave the stump a once over - he still couldn't see the toad, but something sure did smell funny. Deep snuffles ensued and he worked his way around the tree trying to find a better position. Finally he found his best spot and snuffled the toad with his nose.
Don't disturb him I said.
The toad was unimpressed by being nudged by a wet nose and lazily walked to a higher point in the bowl.
The boy wanted the toad. Where had it gone. As he grew ever more energetic and started trying to jump on the stump I called him off and we slowly moved away.
The toad decided to quit its hidey hole and was acrobatically and none too elegantly climbing down the tree. Ho well.
We rounded near the edge of the forest. A sudden flicker of lightning from across the open grassy hill lit up the night starkly - at first I thought someone had switched on a large spotlight it was that bright and direct. The effect was less like lightning and more like some alien ray gun of death. Spielberg would have been proud to have its likeness in a film.
We trotted on and disappeared once more into the darker woods, and finally, with a slightly hurried pace we exited and went home.
Saturday 25 August 2012
Tuesday 14 August 2012
Friday 10 August 2012
Running Scared
A half dark night. When you walk a lot during the night you realise that there need to be dozens of different words for the different kind of nights you get. Like the Inuits have 30 words for snow perhaps.
Half dark night. Under the canopy the darkness is almost complete - seeing your hand in front of your face is difficult. In clearings a pale reflected yellowish light of civilization shining from an incomplete cloud base gives enough illumination to walk - if you are used to it, and know somewhere well.
We ventured around the woods stopping here and there - the girl was off colour and not in the mood for the usual sprinting around and wrestling. The boy as is often the case took his cue from her and settled down to her energy level.
Deciding to do a half walk to let the girl have a rest we loped down the side of the valley, a strange smell suddenly in the air. Some odd unidentifiable 'green' smell and somewhat 'off'. An odd smell, and something I couldn't place from our extensive history of wild walking.
Five minutes later we had back tracked and the dogs trotted off onto one of the denser paths.
Suddenly the boy gave out his warning bark.
Immediately I broke out of my reverie and pricked my ears up.
The boy's warning bark is given out for strangers encroaching where they shouldn't or things he isn't sure of. Very odd that he should use it in the woods. It meant something unusual.
I thought perhaps they had found someone, and immediately worried what the hell was going on.
A moment later an immense sound of swishing branches from the dogs position, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. What the hell was happening. With the bark and the undergrowith noises, in a split second I imagined some very large beastie they had found and annoyed. . . ( ridiculous, but, at night, in the woods and with a split second to think, your mind can make all sorts of interesting and wacky calls )
A shattering series of cracks and snaps was shortly followed by a thundering boom that echoed across the valley - it was a tree ! I feared some horror of dogs crushed by a tree - especially the girl as she has a habit of biting and pulling even the largest of trees -, but a moment later the dogs shot out of the bushes and ran hell for leather along the path towards the exit - and away from me. Running scared out of the woods.
So much for my brave night time companions.
I gathered up the spooked pooches. Jittery they nevertheless trotted back to me, and I stuck them on the lead. Deciding to investigate where the noise came from I walked towards it - the dogs very conspicuously not entirely happy with the idea. The boy stuck his nose forward thought about it, then turned tail and retreated.
Pfah.
Although it has to be said, in the gloom of the under canopy dark, when your buff, confident, big dogs show a bit of fear and hide behind you it can be. . . unnerving. Time to quosh the primitive fear tickle and apply some enlightened calm.
Encouraging them on we ventured into the denser canopy and after a while managed to sniff out the tree - quite literally. Finding a fallen tree in a wild bit of woods at night isn't actually all that easy by eye. But a tell tale smell of new green was in the air, fresh sap, crushed leaves, torn earth. And sure enough there lay a very hefty limb of an oak tree. Overhead a newly shattered stump stuck out its splintered fingers into the sky, whilst below half a tree now blocked a small path, its main trunk snapped in half as it hit the ground - a small crater at the impact point.
As we looked at it, a branch shifted and the thing moved - which actually spooked me. I thought something was coming out of the undergrowth. Perhaps some large tree killing monster.
Having had a good look at it we left the violence of the fallen tree to the darkness.
The whole experience was quite something, with a thrill of fear once or twice in short succession. Night walking is a whole other ball game to day walking.
Half dark night. Under the canopy the darkness is almost complete - seeing your hand in front of your face is difficult. In clearings a pale reflected yellowish light of civilization shining from an incomplete cloud base gives enough illumination to walk - if you are used to it, and know somewhere well.
We ventured around the woods stopping here and there - the girl was off colour and not in the mood for the usual sprinting around and wrestling. The boy as is often the case took his cue from her and settled down to her energy level.
Deciding to do a half walk to let the girl have a rest we loped down the side of the valley, a strange smell suddenly in the air. Some odd unidentifiable 'green' smell and somewhat 'off'. An odd smell, and something I couldn't place from our extensive history of wild walking.
Five minutes later we had back tracked and the dogs trotted off onto one of the denser paths.
Suddenly the boy gave out his warning bark.
Immediately I broke out of my reverie and pricked my ears up.
The boy's warning bark is given out for strangers encroaching where they shouldn't or things he isn't sure of. Very odd that he should use it in the woods. It meant something unusual.
I thought perhaps they had found someone, and immediately worried what the hell was going on.
A moment later an immense sound of swishing branches from the dogs position, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. What the hell was happening. With the bark and the undergrowith noises, in a split second I imagined some very large beastie they had found and annoyed. . . ( ridiculous, but, at night, in the woods and with a split second to think, your mind can make all sorts of interesting and wacky calls )
A shattering series of cracks and snaps was shortly followed by a thundering boom that echoed across the valley - it was a tree ! I feared some horror of dogs crushed by a tree - especially the girl as she has a habit of biting and pulling even the largest of trees -, but a moment later the dogs shot out of the bushes and ran hell for leather along the path towards the exit - and away from me. Running scared out of the woods.
So much for my brave night time companions.
I gathered up the spooked pooches. Jittery they nevertheless trotted back to me, and I stuck them on the lead. Deciding to investigate where the noise came from I walked towards it - the dogs very conspicuously not entirely happy with the idea. The boy stuck his nose forward thought about it, then turned tail and retreated.
Pfah.
Although it has to be said, in the gloom of the under canopy dark, when your buff, confident, big dogs show a bit of fear and hide behind you it can be. . . unnerving. Time to quosh the primitive fear tickle and apply some enlightened calm.
Encouraging them on we ventured into the denser canopy and after a while managed to sniff out the tree - quite literally. Finding a fallen tree in a wild bit of woods at night isn't actually all that easy by eye. But a tell tale smell of new green was in the air, fresh sap, crushed leaves, torn earth. And sure enough there lay a very hefty limb of an oak tree. Overhead a newly shattered stump stuck out its splintered fingers into the sky, whilst below half a tree now blocked a small path, its main trunk snapped in half as it hit the ground - a small crater at the impact point.
As we looked at it, a branch shifted and the thing moved - which actually spooked me. I thought something was coming out of the undergrowth. Perhaps some large tree killing monster.
Having had a good look at it we left the violence of the fallen tree to the darkness.
The whole experience was quite something, with a thrill of fear once or twice in short succession. Night walking is a whole other ball game to day walking.
Thursday 2 August 2012
Cows
Early hours of the morning. A field illuminated by a moon and wreathed in a ghostly mist.
I had taken the dogs here to give them a run and somewhere different for them to have a sniff about - but I had my eye open for cows. Dogs are welcome in the field when cows are around, so long as they don't bother the beasts.
Its been a while since my pair have met a cow - the last time over a year ago. The herd of cows they met then rather surprisingly intimidated them, and I ended up with both mutts between my legs, trembling and growling in turn. Eventually there was some mutual sniffing - the sight of a cow and dog nose to nose sniffing is something I'll always remember, before I took them off and away. Cows are inordinately curious however, and they ended up following us all around the field.
Back to the night.
Sure enough half way through the field, a snapping and shifting revealed the presence of cows. Curiousity getting the better of them they started walking our way. Both my mutts prickled - the boy growling and moving towards the large shadows, the girl just watching intently.
Not wanting a bout of post midnight barking - it seemed like the boy might launch into it - I shushed them away. Cows being cows, they followed us - but not quickly enough and they lost our trail. Unfortunately I couldn't give the dogs a run as I didn't want them running around like lunatics with the cows, so we made do with a lead walk, but they seemed fine, noses to the floor intently sniffing everything.
On our way to the exit I retraced out steps to see if I could see the cows out in the open, and possibly have a controlled encounter, but they had disappeared. The mutts prickled at something unseen, perhaps it was the cows, but I could see nothing and decided to call it a night and head home.
I had taken the dogs here to give them a run and somewhere different for them to have a sniff about - but I had my eye open for cows. Dogs are welcome in the field when cows are around, so long as they don't bother the beasts.
Its been a while since my pair have met a cow - the last time over a year ago. The herd of cows they met then rather surprisingly intimidated them, and I ended up with both mutts between my legs, trembling and growling in turn. Eventually there was some mutual sniffing - the sight of a cow and dog nose to nose sniffing is something I'll always remember, before I took them off and away. Cows are inordinately curious however, and they ended up following us all around the field.
Back to the night.
Sure enough half way through the field, a snapping and shifting revealed the presence of cows. Curiousity getting the better of them they started walking our way. Both my mutts prickled - the boy growling and moving towards the large shadows, the girl just watching intently.
Not wanting a bout of post midnight barking - it seemed like the boy might launch into it - I shushed them away. Cows being cows, they followed us - but not quickly enough and they lost our trail. Unfortunately I couldn't give the dogs a run as I didn't want them running around like lunatics with the cows, so we made do with a lead walk, but they seemed fine, noses to the floor intently sniffing everything.
On our way to the exit I retraced out steps to see if I could see the cows out in the open, and possibly have a controlled encounter, but they had disappeared. The mutts prickled at something unseen, perhaps it was the cows, but I could see nothing and decided to call it a night and head home.
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