From the 44 million birds now thought to be missing-in-action in the British countryside since the late 60’s, to trouble in the Middle East (let’s hope the truce holds) to the Church I grew up in once again proving itself unable to take one step out of the past, it’s not exactly been a good news week. On the face of it, few weeks are, especially if one tends to read a lot of wildlife and environment news as I do. Whether it’s because positive stories make boring copy, or because things really are that bad, I don’t know, but in this the season of decay signs of hope are few and far between.
Meanwhile I’ve not got out enough, spending far too much time in the house, in the car, in labs, staring out the window at wind, rain and swirling rubbish in the streets, feeling vaguely ill and vaguely sorry for myself. If I think hard enough about it I’ve seen some great wildlife, from a 200-strong flock of lapwings to a lovely male wood duck on the lake at the end of our road. (Yes, I know they don’t ‘count’, but they’re still lovely!) But somehow they haven’t moved me as they normally should and would.