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"The lives of birds are too rich to be to quiet madness in a pretty cage, thousands of miles from the forests of home."
I’ve come to think of it as the year’s fallow, a necessary hiatus with its own beauty.
What I would most like to do in my life is to sing in a small- to medium-sized choir.
Our home is their equivalent to a pied-à-terre in Benidorm.
I have botanised – the act of drifting along with the flow of the earth and its flora – in the strangest of locations: around airports and car parks, in city back-lots and on the platforms of railway stations.
For a time, the US was a world-leader in protecting its wild land. Now, precious habitats could be ruined for ever by fracking and logging companies.
Just as we finally understand the crucial role of bees, the US president has suspended Obama’s pollinator programme.
The mind needs a space to wander free, encountering the fauna, real or imagined, with whom we share this earth, and the elements that shape that shared terrain.
The natural world did not really feature in my history books growing up, but it should have done.
Naturally, I was delighted to discover these crepuscular clans of tiny, leather-clad aviators.