Harvest time - it's getting crowded here !

Currently I am working at a desk with a north facing upstairs window, I can hear the crunch of the post van tyres ouside for the 1pm delivery as I type this. Over the road opposite is a view of fields and trees, until now quiet shimmering wheat fields under a late summer sun with a fringe of woodland green on the horizon to offset their crispy yellows.

All this is really new to me, as a city kid I remember going to the Royal Smithfield Show in the Agricultural Hall London with my junior school, to marvel at the latest monsterous combined harvesters, bright red Massey tractors and Gloucester Old Spot pigs snuffling around.

I guess I'm trapped in a 1970's mechanized expectation, combined with a 1940's Battle of Britain summer view of farm lads gathering in the hay whilst vapour trails of fighter aircraft draw fluffy cotton patterns in the azure sky. (Having the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight Lancaster pass low over the rear garden last weekend can't have helped).

The harvesters are huge expensive machines, rented by the hour, working 18 hours a day & often by headlights at night if bad weather threatens. A succession of tractors and brim full trailers of grain have passed by in recent days, fields have gone into sharp contrast of fresh brown corduroy or skinhead stubble and the displaced populations of butterflies, rodents, rabbits driven before the machines, have now made their home on our leafy green oasis.

It's crowded, suddently Samantha our huntress cat is in her element, fieldmice brought in to play hide and seek, a small rabbit squeaking under the bed, occasional birds that have proven too slow to escape. Sunday was my acceptance into the humane termination club. A rabbit badly injured I think by a car, dragging back legs and in extreme pain.

A quick lookup on the internet on how to humanely perform the act and armed with knowledge on how to use a 'priest', I did my duty. Not happy in having to do it, I'm a townie, life and death are things in the newspaper or when a pet hamster dies.

I'm very sure it won't be last, I've a bit of growing up to do.