I walked through the church yard of a small country church and onto the footpath that leads to the wood. It is a small wood that sits isolated in a landscape of agricultural fields. It is a beautiful, sunny summer’s day.
The wood is private and I check there is no one around before climbing over the gate to enter. As I walk into the wood, my unease is absorbed into the cool, calm atmosphere.
I walk through this little wood that sees few humans and sit down next to an empty feeding station. I feel I want to sit quietly, contemplating, remembering. I follow the long trunks of the trees upwards and see the sun coming through the various shades of green leaves high in the canopy. I listen to poplar leaves tinkling in the gentle wind and the sweet chorus of birds all around me.
I begin to silently and mindfully create a RadJoy bird next to one of the feeding stations. Every now and then, the peace is violated by the sound of a gun from across the field. The birds keep singing and the leaves keep tinkling and the sun continues to shine through shades of green.
I feel hidden and safe in the wood, but it is time to leave. I step out into the glare of the sun on the open field and immediately feel vulnerable.
Walking back along the footpath towards the church, I hear the familiar gobble call of a pheasant in another patch of wood.
A lucky one that got away. Take care my exotically feathered friend and shshsh.