Happy Belated Midsummer
June 24, 2009 by Bird
Filed under Blog, Fauna, Navel Gazing, Summer
Midsummer this year was a far gentler affair than last years epic night walk up Snowdon - wow, was that really a whole year ago? R and I went instead to visit his parents in Hampshire and had a peaceful time strolling about in the countryside, eating his mothers home made delicious Victoria sponge cake and generally taking it easy. Midsummer is a special time though, and we spent midsummer eve skulking about in the fields wondering what would be the best way to mark it. Remnants of freshly harvested hay laying strewn about in the grass seemed too good not to play with, so we constructed a double spiral and spent a giggly half hour or so walking it’s curves as if it were a labyrynth, occasionally jumping into or out of the centres and generally thinking about how midsummer is one of the hinges of the year. Everything (apart from birdsong, which is already thinning) now feels to be at it’s peak, but already we are on our way to autumn.
Heavy workloads mean that we are both early to bed these days, but I suffer from insomnia and vowed to myself that if I awoke in the early hours I would bend this curse to my advantage. Sure enough I was wide awake at 4.20 am, so I quietly dressed and went outside. I’m glad I did. I’d hardly been out of the door ten minutes when I noticed a dark shape moving at the far end of the field. I raised my binoculars expecting a rabbit and instead was delighted to see a fox, apparently pounce-hunting for voles. I was hidden from view by a gatepost; the creature had no idea I was there so I settled to watch. I assumed after a few pounces that foxy was having no luck, but then a second fox jumped up from the short grass, and the two leggy creatures started frolicking like spring lambs. It was a vixen and her mate; rather than hunting she’d been playing, trying to rouse him from a doze! I was entranced. Of course at this time of year I should have realised that there was something missing from this picture but it wasn’t missing for long as a third fox, their single cub, bounded out of the hedgerow and joined the game. They scampered and raced, cavorted and leapt, throwing bits of hay like confetti as they played. This went on for ten minutes or more, until one of the cubs’ games of hide and seek went on a little longer than before and I realised they had melted into the hedgerow for good.
I wandered across the fields hopeful of a badger sighting, and the pale dawn arrived rose petal white – a cloudy day. No badgers, they were probably already in bed as I was dressing, but I did get to see another fine dog fox on his way home from hunting. Wild foxed these – not your insolent unafraid urban critters but wary and suspicious, and for very good reason. It was about six am when I wandered back over stubbly fields and already the sound of shotguns was punctuating the air. Hampshire is not a good place to live if you are furred or feathered, or so it seems to me. As I walked I found this pheasent’s egg, raided by one of the foxes perhaps or even a stoat.
Pheasants, introduced to this country purely as moving targets and preyed on by all and sundry may be cossetted by gamekeepers for the early part of their lives, but seeing that broken egg reminded me that theirs is a crummy lot really. Heartily glad to be top of the food chain I made my way back to the house.
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What a fine reward for a sleepless morning! You wrote it so vividly, we were right there with you. Thank you for the charming moment. And for your kind thoughts about foxes and pheasants. Some of my most riveting nature moments have been at dawn, especially when I’m up in the Adirondacks. Absolute silence, mist on a molten silver lake, waning moon like a pearl against a pinking sky, then BLAM!!! — a beaver smacks his tail on the water right beside my canoe. Good thing I have a strong heart.
Jackie, you painted that peaceful morning scene so well…but I’m pretty sure I would capsize with shock if a beaver did that to me! I need to make more use of my early morning insomnia, I think the rewards of being up at dawn are so overlooked.
Blessed midsummer to you as well! I like your spiral, and the picture is so pretty with the trees and sky behind. For some reason it makes me think of a fiction novel’s front cover. Wonder what that tale would be?
WOW about the foxes! What a way to usher in the morning. I felt as if I were there. I imagine a welcome coolness to the morning, perhaps a little mist rising as the sun makes his appearance. Birdsong slowly swelling, fresh damp air thick with the smell of grass and moist earth. That may not be how it was, but I’m there in my imagination, at least.
Egg breakfast, yum. (Though I prefer mine cooked.) Glad indeed not to be a pheasant in the wild woods.
Kit, you are so perceptive – it kind of is an illustration for a novel! The spiral was inspired by something I read in Ursula LeGuin’s book “Always Coming Home” In the story there is the recurring motif of a hinge or pivot and I’ve always loved it. In the book it’s an important symbol to the inhabitants of a future America, they call it the “heyeya-if”. I loved making it.
The foxes were something else – I’d been hoping to see one, but how magical to see that family. I will never, ever forget it. You are pretty much right about the details you filled in, apart from a lack of mist, which thinking about it was kind of strange. But that’s what enabled me to get those views.
I think for breakfast that day I had a yummy fried duck egg on toast (R’s mother has some pet ducks) so it was quite an eggtastic morning. I think the wild pheasants have their nests raided constantly poor things, (they are not clever birds) but so many are raised tame in the area that it doesn’t dent the population one bit. I do wonder how many would thrive if the population wasn’t kept so artificially high…
Just wanted to pop back in and say I am tickled about the “novel illustration”. Of course, I had no idea that’s what you’d had in mind, so to hear of this “coincidence” is a teeny bit thrilling. I think I should read that book!
I recommend it Kit, it’s a beautiful book
And I love that you’ve come back to the conversation 
Bird, thanks very much for your lovely account of the foxes, lovely
I think the other reason for the creatures being afraid and wary in the countryside is that their exposure to humans is pretty low. A very happy midsummer to you
You are right Chrissy, they are not accustomed to people in the countryside and foxes are naturally wary, they don’t like anything unexpected or new. In the city they have few enemies, they sometimes got persecuted for raiding dustbins but I know that in our part of town since we’ve had wheelie bins no one minds the foxes a bit. In fact I know a few local allotments where foxes are actively encouraged as they keep the rat population down. This means that they are incredibly relaxed and you can get very close to them!
They do seem to be universally considered vermin in the countryside though, I know that even people who like them who will shoot at them if they see one. I also know that some people try to make themselves shoot them and can’t bring themselves to do it… what a lot of conflicting attitudes they spark up!
Happy Midsummer, Bird!
I know I’ve blabbered on about this before, but again, your words really do bring us readers into your world and what a beautiful world it is. I felt your child-like joy while in the hay and your wonder while watching those foxes pre-dawn. What lovely experiences—except for the insomnia—I am so sorry about that!
So, thank you again for a glimpse of your fun!
p.s. Have you ever thought of writing a book? Seriously!
Hello again Holly and a happy midsummer to you too! You know I don’t know how to thank you, you have been so supportive to me from the first. I have sometimes wondered if I wouldn’t like to write something a little more permanent than a blog, but what would I write? I don’t have a novel in me as far as I know and I don’t know enough about natural history to write about that either. I do love writing but until now I’ve never had anyone to write for. It’s really blown me away that you think I have more in me. Thank you.
Awesome on the foxes! That must have been so adorable.
Happy belated Midsummer to you, too!
Lana, happy Midsummer to you too! No matter how many times I see a fox from this day forwards, I’ll never forget these midsummer ones. It was adorable, it was magical, it was a privilege.