A Tale About Storks – part 5
Having watched the snails - commonly called Roman, or Burgundy snails (the edible type) and quite rare so far up north - for some ten minutes doing their thing, I forced myself to get going. The afternoon was getting on and I still had some way to go. Back into the woods. ‘Go straight, turn right, turn left, go straight again into a south-westerly direction’, the phone instructed me. What do you mean, go straight?, I yelled. It’s a T-junction here, you stupid thing! And where is south west? You know when you are totally frustrated when you start talking back to an inanimate object.
Thankfully, my brother taught me how to use the sun for direction, so I turned left, exasperated at the whole silly situation. I wasn’t all that worried - it is after all virtually impossible to get lost in this tiny country of mine; all you have to do is keep walking in one direction, and you will very shortly bump into some form of human habitation - but I was tired, and my sore hip was telling me that I had walked close to ten kilometres already. Forget about storks. I wanted my car! Desperately.
Up ahead, a gate loomed up across the path. Oh no! I really hope I don’t have to climb that thing! I did not, and found myself coming out unto a broad, sandy, sun-lit path that looked rather familiar. Been here before, I thought wryly. Deciding that all I had to do was carefully retrace my steps along the same route that had brought me to that path hours earlier, I set off. Can’t be too difficult, I remember thinking. That thought also proved to be a touch too positive.
You know that feeling, when you think you’re doing the right thing, and still get taken aback by the turn of events? I do. I ended up on another tarmac road, so got the phone back out, and turned to the right. Twenty-nine minutes, fourteen minutes, ten. Plodding on, I still tried to pay some attention. A pheasant called out from some field, a blue heron peered into a bit of water, a single lapwing tumbled above the grass. I saw a great tit and a blue tit, heard another woodpecker – most likely a great spotted one - a buzzard flew by, and all the while a cuckoo called in the far distance. Lots of small white butterflies, orange tips, common brimstones, and even a peacock butterfly caught my eye.
A sign. Parking 200 m. I looked up, and spotted my car through the trees in the distance. Sighing with relief, I suddenly recognized the broad entrance path into the woods on my left. And just ahead were the pretty river and the little white bridge I’d been looking for all this time. While taking a photo of the idyllic scenery in front of me, I heard bill-clattering. Only a few hundred meters away was a line of trees with several big stork nests in them. All occupied. I had finally found the colony of storks.
I’ll come back tomorrow, I decided, too tired to do anything other than sink gratefully into the intense comfort of my car seat. For a time, I just sat, watching the nest straight ahead of me. One bird stood, looking at its mate flying in. A brief greeting, and then the waiting bird took off. A change of the watch. I smiled.
To be continued …
Having watched the snails - commonly called Roman, or Burgundy snails (the edible type) and quite rare so far up north - for some ten minutes doing their thing, I forced myself to get going. The afternoon was getting on and I still had some way to go. Back into the woods. ‘Go straight, turn right, turn left, go straight again into a south-westerly direction’, the phone instructed me. What do you mean, go straight?, I yelled. It’s a T-junction here, you stupid thing! And where is south west? You know when you are totally frustrated when you start talking back to an inanimate object.
Thankfully, my brother taught me how to use the sun for direction, so I turned left, exasperated at the whole silly situation. I wasn’t all that worried - it is after all virtually impossible to get lost in this tiny country of mine; all you have to do is keep walking in one direction, and you will very shortly bump into some form of human habitation - but I was tired, and my sore hip was telling me that I had walked close to ten kilometres already. Forget about storks. I wanted my car! Desperately.
Up ahead, a gate loomed up across the path. Oh no! I really hope I don’t have to climb that thing! I did not, and found myself coming out unto a broad, sandy, sun-lit path that looked rather familiar. Been here before, I thought wryly. Deciding that all I had to do was carefully retrace my steps along the same route that had brought me to that path hours earlier, I set off. Can’t be too difficult, I remember thinking. That thought also proved to be a touch too positive.
You know that feeling, when you think you’re doing the right thing, and still get taken aback by the turn of events? I do. I ended up on another tarmac road, so got the phone back out, and turned to the right. Twenty-nine minutes, fourteen minutes, ten. Plodding on, I still tried to pay some attention. A pheasant called out from some field, a blue heron peered into a bit of water, a single lapwing tumbled above the grass. I saw a great tit and a blue tit, heard another woodpecker – most likely a great spotted one - a buzzard flew by, and all the while a cuckoo called in the far distance. Lots of small white butterflies, orange tips, common brimstones, and even a peacock butterfly caught my eye.
A sign. Parking 200 m. I looked up, and spotted my car through the trees in the distance. Sighing with relief, I suddenly recognized the broad entrance path into the woods on my left. And just ahead were the pretty river and the little white bridge I’d been looking for all this time. While taking a photo of the idyllic scenery in front of me, I heard bill-clattering. Only a few hundred meters away was a line of trees with several big stork nests in them. All occupied. I had finally found the colony of storks.
I’ll come back tomorrow, I decided, too tired to do anything other than sink gratefully into the intense comfort of my car seat. For a time, I just sat, watching the nest straight ahead of me. One bird stood, looking at its mate flying in. A brief greeting, and then the waiting bird took off. A change of the watch. I smiled.
To be continued …
