Entering an Alterative Dimension
Two mornings in a row the marsh has been bright, sunny, chilly, and atmospheric. Sounds penetrate the air with a ring; the slightest noise is crystal clear and sharp to the point where a shrill bird call pricks my ear.
Where have all these rabbits come from? They are sitting about in the Lagoon Field, digging holes in Hoo Brook Corridor, and hopping around North Pasture with abandon. A vision of a rabbit bomb exploding over the north marsh, launching furry balls of legs and long slender ears in all directions, is playing in my head.
The marsh cattle graze quietly in Hoo Brook pasture. Wayne is breakfasting on brambles, nettles and thistles. He wraps his flexible tongue around the young, succulent, spine and stinging spicule covered leaves before yanking them from the stalks with his trademark practised economy of movement. Rose’s calve is daintily plucking leaves from the slender willow samplings that are invading the pasture. Waynetta’s head is pushed purposefully through the barbed wire stock fence, oblivious to the sharp barbs, to get at the lush vegetation flourishing along Hoo Brook bank. Jill is watching the traffic struggle along Wilden Lane and Stabby Cow is stood to attention, listening.
The herons are overhead, lazily flying to their fishing grounds. I hear the incessant begging clacking of hungry heron chicks from their treetop twig nests a hundred metres away at the heronry. Female herons screech a “Hurry up” to their departing mates.
Being on Wilden Marsh at the start of the day, able to plug into the ambience and understand what is happening, is an absolute joy that takes years of practice to fully appreciate. How lucky am I?