Woodlife

When we first met she politely came along on walks (in high heels) and constantly asked if we were near a Cafe yet. I soon discovered that Mrs Pablo wasn’t a woodsperson. Of course my re-discovering bushcraft a few years ago was met with the usual, “That’s nice,” and tacit encouragement. She will always encourage without really understanding what she’s encouraging. “That bloke Ray Bushmears is on TV,” she once shouted when I was upsatirs.

I was pleased when last summer she started coming with me during the evenings trying and spot owls and badgers. She genuinely shared my enthusiasm for trying to find the elusive creatures. I was even more amazed when she agreed to have a Trangia brewed cup of tea. She shyed away from actually straying too far from the Land Rover Discovery and baulked at the thought of walking through the woods (admitedly they are a bit closed in) for fear of “grubs” getting at her, which is her term for anything with more than four legs.

“Coming to the woods then?” I jokingly asked, half way out of the door last night. “Hang on,” she said, “I’ll just get my bag.” I chuckled and carried on putting my own bag in the back of the car. I climbed into the driving seat only to get the shock of my life by seeing her sitting next to me. “Come along then. I haven’t got all day,” she said.

We walked through the woods with me trying to point out a couple of interesting woodland aspects in an attempt to keep her interested. CRACK CRACK CRACK. I asked her what she was doing. “I like jumping on sticks,” she said. Shaking my head, I tried to distract her by pointing out some tracks.

“What do you think that is?”

“A deer,” she replied hastily and without obvious interest.

“Not quite; it’s a fox.” I then explained the oval features of a fox print and the difference between that and a dog.

“What are you doing now?” I asked. I’d given her my tracking stick to make her at least look a bit more at home in the woods.

“Wouldn’t it look better with more toes?” I tried not to look heavenward.

After staring at the seven toe’d fox print for a while I looked up to see her a good 20 yards ahead of me. I caught up and heard her muttering, “Fox, dog, deer, dog, dog, deer… badger” in quick succession.

Whooaa! Hang on a minute? What did you say?”

“Fox, dog, deer, dog, dog, deer, badger.”

“Show me”.

She walked back a few paces. “See… Fox, dog, deer, dog, dog, deer, badger.”

“Well you’re right (of course) but how did you know the last one was a badger?”

“Well, you explained what a fox, a dog and deer looked like, what other larger animal is there left around here?”

Born tracker I’d say.

Thanks for the visit.

Pablo.