By: Vague
It is nearly ten in the morning. I was just sat idly thinking when it struck me that I would normally have been at work for two hours by now. Instead, what have I done?
I’ve laid in my hammock watching the light slowly creep across the glen. I stayed there watching the ravens on the shoreline, a gull, and cormorants fishing. Listened as something barged shellfish against rocks, hidden from view, otter? Maybe, although it could have been a bird.
I got up, checked I hadn’t been raided in the night then lit the fire to make a cup of tea.
I indulged in the now morning ritual of calling the little birds in the wood and exchanging a few pleasantries, before they head off in their barely ceasing insect hunt. As I was making my cup of tea, I heard a hammering behind me. Then a flash of feather as a lesser-spotted woodpecker flew past. It started tap-tapping on a tree about ten yards from me, then was joined by another – its mate? They flew off as I got the camera out.
Now I sit here listening to the billy can boil again – second cup of tea time. I will drink this, then put some thick branches in the stove while I go and check the creel I put out with the dead fish I found yesterday afternoon. The tide is nearly low enough to do so now.
The woodpecker has returned, sounding for all the world like someone knocking feverishly on a door.
Do I miss work?
What do you think.