All things bright and Beautiful
A robin sang low and sweet, then a moment of magic greeted me, a more melliferous sound, a lark suddenly rises just in front of me and stops me in my tracks. I watch him ascend until I can see him no more. I can also hear the bravura of the bustling growing crops and watch a lonely swallow scooting obliquely high and low scything over the tender bowed locks of barley. High above the swifts are sailing about in a placid easy manner feasting on insects secure from ruffling winds. These wonderful birds sum up the brevity of our summers.
As I am lost in wonder a man approaches, his expression is pedestrian versifying an inelegance but he is drawn to Maverick like iron to a magnet. Maverick looks at the man in keen anticipation with his side-curved head curious what will unfold next. The man then spreads the palm of his hand and lifts the flap of his pocket. He speaks aloud to him in a child-like burst of expression, his thoughts regardless of any hearers, he then pats him fondly and rewards Maverick with a treat then takes his leave. Moments later Maverick puts his nose to the ground, with puzzled excitement and with seraphine footfalls he approaches a male blackbird which is pecking at something on the ground. Maverick bayed long and loud to raise my attention and as I approach, I see he is attacking a young bat. As the blackbird splutters and swiftly flies away Maverick stands over him as if to protect him, thus saving the life of the little bat. I picked him up and studied him for the next few moments then placed him on the trunk of a nearby tree, I watched as he raced up the side of the tree to hide in the canopy above, and hopefully to live another day.
As I stood breathing with such suppression of the heart as joy delights in this scene I began to reflect when in years gone by Cecil Frances Humphries sat on top of a large hill and saw the glorious countryside below. When she later arrived home, she was moved to write the wonderful hymn ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ my favourite hymn and I am touched by it, but like a footnote I must keep this story light and mine my own life’s experiences of nature.
My new companion Maverick relishes the incomparable pleasure of discovery. On a recent adventure as we cross the meadow the smell of the tedded grass delights his nose where the grass hoppers take the lead, but with nymph-like steps and an inquisitive eye Maverick passes by. As the sun makes turn the gazers eye away, we take our ease beneath the green feathered curtains of the weeping willow, where dimness steaked and blurred the sunlight, and in the sky above we can hear the buzzard’s whispers where crows wing the midday air. However, the weight of the stare of a crow in a tree close by alerts my attention. The loud frantic calls of her mate flying and swooping incessantly above our heads tells me something here is amiss. Several moments pass by and as I scan the area to identify what is wrong Maverick begins to whimper softly, his tail wagging as he looks up at me for approval and as I look down at him, there between his paws is a fledgling crow waiting to be fed by its parents. His gentleness is remarkable as he gazes at the quiet blinking youngster in amazement. I now realise that we have stumbled into a would-be danger zone. With a quiet call of his name and with backward steps we swiftly leave this place. As we follow the little path from the woods where its lank margins are packed full with the thrusting creamy-green heads of the cow parsley, where the wild wood flowers grow the dandelions were abounded, their flowers like locks of gold but soon in days to come will be turning silver grey. Everywhere the hedgerows are fragrant and jewelled with wild roses and woodbine the wild honeysuckle clambering through, and where creamy corymbs gleam on elder trees.
In these special places important information comes to the heart, for you are then able to suppress the frivolous desires and artificial materialisms that society seems to worship, but these are pallid pleasures compared to the greater ones of our great outdoors.
As for my new companion, I could not praise him more. I see little Blue in everything he does, he is like him in so many ways and I find comfort in him. This special breed is a must to any would-be naturalist, being calm, steady and attentive, but ever alert.
One man and his dog
At the crack of dawn
within the day that's new.
What stirs within the countryside
stepping through the dew.
One man and his dog
Birds begin to awaken
with their distinctive call.
This lover of the countryside
hears and sees it all.
One man and his dog
A baby bird, a spider’s web
fills this man with awe.
Enjoying natures beauty
in everything he saw.
One man and his dog
For three score years past
he has wound his way.
Walking through the verdant fields
at least three times a day.
One man and his dog
Now we can all share
much of what he knows.
Entered on the internet
a treasure bound in prose.
One man and his dog
Poem by Brian Salkeld
(Inspired by ‘A Far Away Fellow’)
