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.