Billy saves the day!
Dave’s loyal dog gets him out of trouble when he gets lost in the local woods
THE SILENCE of the byway through the wood is so profound that the gentle chatter of the Disco’s 300Tdi engine on tickover sounds much too loud as I slowly ease off the track to park up. Another heatwave day is forecast but here now, at sunrise, it is pleasantly comfort- able as I quietly close the driver’s door and tiptoe towards a gap in the trees. Behind that gap is a broad, grassy ride through the wood. I’m keeping noise to a minimum because I’m hoping to see the wood’s resident wild deer. They feel secure out in the open early in the morning, only retiring to the safety of the undergrowth later, when the silence is broken by the arrival of humans. Earlyrisers like me are rare, thankfully.
I say thankfully because I truly appreciate these dawns in the countryside when I’m alone apart from my constant companion, Billy the Wonderdog, and whatever wild creatures chance to come my way. To get me to these places that most vehicles can’t reach, I rely upon my two elderly Land Rovers: my 1996 Disco 1 and my 1984 Ninety.
The low, rising sun is behind me as I reach the top of the ride. This is important when you are hoping to see wildlife, as the glare of the sun in their eyes disguises your presence. Sure enough, two fallow deer – a doe and a young buck, I think – are grazing on the grass, about 100 yards away. They don’t suspect my presence until they hear the click of the camera shutter. They raise their heads and peer into the sun; they know I’m here, and they slowly disappear into the shadows.
I smile, pick up a stick and throw it for Billy. He can make as much noise as he wants now. Besides, he deserves some fun. He saved the day for me yesterday, as I’ll explain…
I’ve had better weeks. Earlier this week my mother died. She was almost 96 years old and had enjoyed a full and generous life, but it still filled my heart with sadness. It also got me thinking about mourning loved ones.
There’s another wood nearby where I used to walk my previous dog, Herbie. Because the memories of our walks there were so special, I hadn’t been back for about three years. But Mum’s passing made me realise that was a bit daft, so yesterday morning at the crack of dawn Billy and I jumped in the Ninety and headed there.
As always, it involved a trip down a bouncy byway, followed by a trek around a couple of fields to the wood. As Billy and I walked towards the entrance, I spotted something moving in the undergrowth near a hedge. I knew exactly what it was because only a week earlier,
in a meadow near my home, I’d seen another. It was a badger.
Until last week, I had only ever had two fleeting glimpses of badgers in broad daylight. Now I’d seen two more in the space of a week – and this one was 40 yards away and oblivious to my presence as I took dozens of photographs and even a couple of short video clips. Again, the rising sun was behind me, and the glare must have made me invisible. It was only when I got greedy and tried to edge closer that he eventually spotted me and ambled off into the hedgerow.
Badgers are normally nocturnal creatures that stay deep in their underground setts during daylight hours. Their primary sources of food are worms and grubs that they dig out from the soil with their powerful front claws. But at the time of writing we’re experiencing the most severe drought since 1976. The soil is rock-hard and has opened up into huge cracks, as though rural Northamptonshire has been struck by a mini-earthquake. Perhaps these extreme conditions have made foraging difficult for the badgers during the short hours of darkness at this time of the year, meaning they have had to stay out into the dawn. I’m just grateful to have been lucky enough to share daybreak with two of these enigmatic creatures.
The walk through the woods was uneventful at first, although I was surprised at how much it had changed in three years. Some of the tracks I used to walk were totally overgrown and what had once been young saplings were now medium-sized trees. But it was good to be back, walking quite literally down memory lane.
After an hour or so, it was time to be heading back. Breakfast was calling. So I headed off in what I thought was the right direction, but the path came to a dead end. So I tried another path, but that eventually petered out, too. And so did the next one. I had now been in the wood for an hour and a half and was hopelessly lost in a place that I thought I knew like the back of my hand. It was at this stage that Billy came to the rescue. My dog loves to be given the chance to run ahead and lead the way, so instead of calling him to heel I signalled to him to take us home. And he did!
I don’t know how he did it – presumably he used his keen sense of smell and canine common sense – but without taking a wrong turning he got us back on track. As soon as we were back at the Ninety, he jumped in and claimed his favourite place – the middle of the bench seat – wagging his tail furiously. He knew he’d done well. Herbie would have been proud of him.