The month started off with a coating of ice across the field and track and a temperature of minus seven. Beautiful glowing skies accompanied the cold in the dawn of the first day of the year. The potholes in the track came in very handy at this point as they became the receptacles of dozens of ice ponds dotted all the way to the road. An entirely magical world had appeared overnight.
The cold icy weather continued for nearly two weeks giving us solid crunchy ground to walk on and a ghostly feel to the land. Then the wet came back. The rain has been relentless and the land is now ankle deep in mud wherever you walk. We have lived in our wellingtons. The arrival of Storm Christophe later in the month added yet more rain and coastal gales. There were days of violent stormy seas with gigantic waves crashing the shores of the Lizard. The sea heaved and rolled and spat out the waves, it was a glorious sight with shafts of silver light pouring down from sky to sea. Neptune was raging.
Out in the field here, we caught the first sightings of the white owl swooping out from the barn and scouring the hill for food. In the early part of the dark evenings there is a lot of owl activity in the exchange of hoots and squawks. There are five or six different sites from which the calls arise – quite the parliament of owls. If only our own parliament was as wise.
The birds became more fully present during this month and their chattering and calling can be heard between six and seven in the morning as first light emerges. At approximately half past seven each day, the flight of the crows takes place. (It might be rooks or jackdaws, definitely a black bird). Dozens and dozens of them blackening a route in the sky, on their way to somewhere. At dusk, they fly back to their starting point. I’m guessing they have a home to go to – but it is a mystery to me as to where they sleep. I found out, (from the rspb website), that birds are less territorial in winter, they roost together and search for food in large flocks but like to be back home by nightfall. Clearly, I am witnessing the flight to and from their feeding ground.
The rabbits have also decided it’s time to get out and about and kill whatever plant has the audacity to rise up above ground. They have also started gnawing at the bark of one of the evergreens, they spit the hard bark out and leave it in a pile by the side of the tree, (just to let you know), before supping on the soft wood. Various articles in the press have expressed concern over the decline of rabbits in the UK, judging by the numbers in our field, they have all moved down to Cornwall. A female rabbit, (a doe), can have up to 6 litters a year with 4 to 8 kits each time. That is quite a worrying prospect for any vegetables we want to grow. I’m presently working my way through the literature on how to live harmoniously with rabbits. Watch this space.
The daffodils continue to colour the landscape and lately more dandelions, snowdrops and new growth of nettles are appearing. They are particularly venomous when they first emerge, full of burning sting. However, their sting can be disarmed by cooking it – oh yes, nettle pie. I promise you, it’s delicious, similar to a spinach, or chard but free. What’s not to like?
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