A dog’s view on sunshine and hail
The strange need for humans to go out in the cold and wet on a Sunday afternoon saw me and the bloke I tolerate out on the Hills and Holes this weekend. The rain and hail has brought out all the scents and smells but as the website has not got these features enabled I’ll have to try my best with words.
The Common Dog-Violet are now flowering across the reserve. I am not sure why a flower with no scent merits the title “dog” but then many of the humans probably do not know they have no scent, the poor disadvantaged creatures that they are. Pairs of Great Tits are prospecting the hawthorns for potential nest sites and large plump Woodpigeons sit in the trees, feathers fluffed out against the cold wind bringing the ever changing weather across the reserve. The initial sunshine quickly disappears and has left the early Cowslip buds considering why they have made the effort to poke their heads out of the warmth of the grass sward. A blackbird’s shrill alarm call announces our progress into compartment 3 on the far side of the reserve. The piles of grey and black ash just beyond the gate where the scrub used to be provide evidence that the reserve needs man’s constant intervention to maintain its wide variety of rare plant life.
Not just nature’s signs of spring are present on the reserve. Man has also made his contribution with the arrival of rows of blue and black plastic sticks neatly attached by their “leads” to each other to stop them running away. Protecting this year’s wild flowers in the areas they zone off they help establish growing communities of the more endangered species so they can strengthen their foothold in this small reserve and spread more widely so all can enjoy them in the future. A fierce hailstorm sends me heading for the cover of the scrub along the boundary between compartments 4 and 3. Standing in this sheltered spot the few early white flowers on the Blackthorn add to the large number of white hailstones spreading across the surrounding grass.
As the sunshine gradually reappears the lazy flapping of a pair of crow’s heading to their roost and the rhythmic wing beat of a black headed gull high over head remind me it is time to head home for tea. The clump of invasive daffodils, the cherry blossom and breaking buds on the horse chestnut tree, on the opposite side of the road as we head back into the village, show that whatever the weather nature has decided it is spring.
Signed Ella (a young and enthusiastic Chocolate Labrador)