I turn out our gate, heading off for some fresh air and a bit of space. Not much has changed here since lockdown, it was never a busy place. The warmth of the summer air is starting to cool as dusk creeps ever closer, but it is still bright. The hill is quite steep and full of potholes. I can hear the echo of children, laughter bouncing off the valley. We can hear everything in our house at the bottom, and sometimes things we really shouldn’t, but we can’t help it.
The green ditches and soft grass along the road sway in the breeze, wildflowers and old stonework poke through them, desperate to be seen. The wildlife has carried on and as I approach a large tree full of nests, I know it will continue as normal. Swallows and crows dart above my head, while Blue Tits and House Sparrows stare at me inquisitively, wondering am I another one of those blow-ins who like to drive here to walk. The fact that strangers come here to walk upsets the locals, but also shows that ours is a nice area. They are breaking lockdown rules and that is frowned upon by the natives.
The birds twitter above my head as a bee flies past my ear. The cows in the yard are making more and more racket until I hear the farmer shout, “Get up out of that.” As I round the corner, I can see more invaders coming from the Caim road, droves of them. There are at least three groups of people there and they’re all coming this way. I walk on a bit until I spot a Renault Scenic outside of my neighbour’s house. I know she’s gone shopping, so I find it strange and take the registration number.The wind in the field on my other side is shaking the unripe barley, making it swish and crack.
I go down another hill and I see from the bottom that more of those blow-ins are coming right towards me. Well that’s their problem, not mine, so I continue walking. As I draw nearer, I see that they are wearing coats, on a day like this? Suspicious. I glare at them and a woman looks back at me with a scornful stare, then jumps into a ditch as though I was the one who wasn’t meant to be there. What I took to be her husband sighed and walked on, then called back, “Jeanie, Mary, it’s only a child come on would you.” I walked for another bit and when the coast was clear I turned around to go home.
Now turning on to my own side road, I was met by the familiar chorus of small birds. That’s when I spotted them. The vixen, carrying a dead hare, while her two cubs trailed along behind. She stared at me warily, while her curious cubs tried to stretch their heads up to see what was bothering her. I walked on a bit and pretended not to notice them, and she seemed to relax. A gunshot rang out, the donkey brayed, she ran on, and so did I, both knowing it wasn’t safe to be here.
