High in the Orrels, when there were still geese around the Goosepool, they have nested longer than anyone can remember. They were the noisiest and most obvious of all the animals that accompanied us in prehistory as we spread across the landscape, altering it as we went, bringing our domesticated animals with us. Some of them came, like the Orkney vole, in the boats of peoples crossing seas to colonise, bringing animals and fodder for their new farms, and creatures hiding in the fodder or as pets brought by their children. ‘Stop fiddling with that bloody Jackdaw,’ their parents will have said, ‘and help us with the hunter-gathering.’ All these creatures followed us as we littered the countryside with our waste and our manure, stored peas and beans and grains in our barns and bartons, and scattered seeds on the open fields. Some came because they liked the changes, moving from eastern steppe lands to new farms where the trees were cleared and meadows, pastures and leasowes made the landscape and the ecology more like the plains back home. Some, like the Royston crow, came to feast on the abundant afterbirths littering the monastic sheep walks at lambing time, and stopped coming when the open rubbish pits of Poland offered year-round pickings. Many were unwelcome, creeping into our houses and eating our cheese, leaving greasy rings behind them on the wood where they squeezed into the holes they gnawed in the wainscoting.
And lovely writing as usual. Especially lovely title.
I would dearly like to hear your source for the Royston crow. I live near there and have not found the story of why there were apparently hoodies here. Not a convincing one anyway.
Just lovely. I will treasure our Rookery in the Three Wise Oaks even more
Congratulations!
And lovely writing as usual. Especially lovely title.
I would dearly like to hear your source for the Royston crow. I live near there and have not found the story of why there were apparently hoodies here. Not a convincing one anyway.