IT'S possible to feel cheated by I spring. It's supposed to be when everything begins again; there are lambs in the fields, snowdrops in the woods and goslings are marched up and down the riverbank by their dutiful parents. However, it isn't a time of abundance in the way that autumn is. In late September, everything comes to a rich culmination: the last of the grain is brought in, salmon run up the rivers to spawn, squirrels scamper madly around London parks and busily bury nuts. For many, the pleasurable business of pickling begins. All creatures great and small know that the weather is on the turn and we've got to make the most of Nature's bounty.
And then comes that late-autumn calm. Everything is done and a pall of tranquillity is cast over Britain in a way that doesn't happen at any other time of year. All of a sudden, holidaymakers empty out of the country's most beautiful places and are replaced by wintering birds. Great flocks of pink-footed geese, several thousand strong, fly down the eastern seaboard, where they will spend our coldest months feeding on sugar-beet tops and stubble fields by day before drifting out onto the mud when evening comes. Denys Watkins-Pitchford ('BB'), the great wildfowler and author, called pink-footed geese the 'hounds of heaven'. I witnessed a conversation the other day between two contemporary nature writers about whether, if BB was alive today, he would have been keen on shooting. These sorts of propositions can be irritating-it's as if sensitive modern authors wish to erase parts of writers of old and then claim the etiolated version for themselves. I suspect BB would still love wildfowling if he were around now.
Denne historien er fra November 01, 2023-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra November 01, 2023-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choice’ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loaves—Emma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround us—but not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: ‘It is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.’ I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning