HERE in Galloway, the drought is a distant memory and the monsoon has arrived early. It normally waits until we are about to start harvest. This has thrown our grassland-management plans. Back in the spring, we stood listening to Brian the contractor shaking his head dolefully and announcing the ground was so rock hard that he couldn’t direct drill and had to do a shallow plough ‘to make some soil’. (Contractors love getting the plough out as it is a costly business; farmers hate it for the same reason.)
The seed sat there through the drought, then grass emerged slowly with a sickly looking fluff, before coming with a rush of the ‘compensatory growth’ beloved of agronomists when it rained. Now, the tall sward of lush grass badly needs grazing to allow it to tiller and thicken in the base, but the soil brought up by the plough has the consistency of wet putty. Putting cattle or machinery on it now would take us back to square one.
How could a black-and-white bird with Day-Glo bill and pink legs think it could blend in?
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