Rook’s Move


For the last week or so, every time we’ve chosen to walk down hill towards the bridge – over the beck and along through the tree tunnel to the tee junction – we have been buried under a tidal wave of noise. All the rooks from round the area are currently gathering in one or the other of the local fields to discuss and debate strategies for the coming year.
In previous years we’ve seen this happen, usually in October or November, but last year the autumn event drew paltry flocks. There is no doubt that, on many fronts, last year could have done better. Spring and summer were both very early and autumn has been mild – interspersing bright days leading to sharp frosts, with bitter, knife edged winds under a dark, soggy cloud blanket. Perhaps the avian organisers postponed the meeting in the hope of some sort of seasonal definition.
There is an old country fable telling how, in autumn, the rooks all gather in a circle and nominate one of their number to give an interesting and entertaining recitation. Should the audience not enjoy the story – the raconteur is promptly pecked to death.
And you thought stand-up comedy was a new idea.

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