A Country Walk in January 

Children today are sadly ignorant of the countryside and the ways of nature, so for their sake I'd like to bring you another nature ramble in which Uncle Geoffrey takes his young niece and nephew Susie and Robert for an instructive walk in the English countryside.

         It was a bright but chilly afternoon in January as Uncle Geoffrey set out across the frosty fields towards the woods with Robert and Susie, his attentive niece and nephew. Overhead a lone buzzard circled, making that oddly high-pitched baby-like sound which is unexpected in so large a bird.
         ‘Do you see that bird circling up there?’ said Uncle Geoff. ‘Can anyone tell me what it is called?
         ‘Yes,’ said Robert. ‘It's called Michael.’
         ‘MICHAEL!!!?’ said Uncle Geoffrey. ‘That's a silly name for a bird!’
         ‘Not at all,’ said Robert. ‘It's a good way to distinguish one buzzard from another. There are so many of them round here round here we have to give them pet names. This one, which lives in the railway cutting...’
         ‘With its partner, Catherine Zeta,’ said Susie.
         ‘...With its partner, Catherine Zeta,’ resumed Robert,‘is an old bird called Michael, but the one which lives in the woods yonder ...’
         As Robert numbingly detailed his knowledge of the local buzzards, a lot more intimate than Uncle Geoffrey's, the latter, not for the first time, wished that he could swoop on Robert from a great height, tear him limb from limb, and gradually devour him.
         ‘... and we call that one Cherie,’ said Robert, ‘as it seems to have more then one home.’
         ‘Oh, look!’ said Uncle Geoffrey, as a great swirl of birds rose from the next field and wheeled away close to the ground. ‘Rather exciting winter visitors there!’
         He was about to ask if anyone knew what they were called, when he thought better of it.
         ‘They are fieldfares, children,’ he said. ‘Fieldfares and redwings like coming here from colder climes for a short winter break. Rather like human beings!’
         ‘Not at all like human beings,’ said Robert. ‘When have you ever heard of a human being taking a winter break in England? Even if you were in a colder place like Norway or Iceland, you wouldn't come to England for warmth. You'd head south to the Canaries. I am afraid your analogy is holed beneath the water line, Uncle Geoffrey.’
         ‘Canary Islands,’ mused Susie. ‘I wonder if any other island has been named after a bird...’
         Uncle Geoffrey opened his mouth but couldn't think of any.
         ‘Well, there's Gannet Rock,’ said Robert. ‘Puffin Island. Flamingo Reach. Los Galapagos...’
         ‘Los Galapagos?’ said Uncle Geoffrey, who was privately convinced that Robert was making these all up, but didn't quite have the courage to challenge his precocious little nephew.
         ‘Galapago is a Peruvian Spanish word for “finch”, Uncle,’ said Robert. ‘I thought you would have known that.’
         Uncle Geoffrey had seen hundreds of TV documentaries about the Galapagos Islands and their status as a paradise island untouched except by hundreds of film crews, but he couldn't remember any of them explaining what Galapagos meant. So he said nothing.
         ‘Fieldfare sounds more like the name you'd give to a company making rural sandwiches,’ said Susan. ‘Fieldfare! Bringing you the best of local produce. Fieldfare-dot-com. Email us your lunch requirements before 10 am, and we'll be there.’
         ‘Redwing sounds like a political activist group,’ said Robert. ‘The roads of Eastern Britain were brought to a complete halt by snow and ice last night. Responsibility for the outrage was claimed by Redwing, the climate control terrorist group.’
         Uncle Geoffrey briefly wondered if he would be justified in slaughtering his two young relatives. How would it sound in court, a murder defence based on being outsmarted and outwitted by two young whippersnappers?
         He had a feeling it wouldn't play very well at all.
         Just then he heard a woodpecker in the woods. Normally he would have drawn it to the children's attention, but for once he sighed and let it pass.
         ‘Hear that woodpecker, Uncle Geoff?’ said Robert. ‘You used to notice things like that. You must be slipping.’
Another country walk with Uncle Geoffrey coming soon, children!

The Independent Tues Feb 4 03