My sleep pattern means I usually wake around four to five a.m. I toss and turn with sporadic naps until I decide to get up around seven. Yesterday was one of those mornings when I wake early and no more sleep is on the horizon. It was five o’clock and I just decided to get up, get ready and go. So it was a very early start at the woods. My nature encounter on the journey was almost a disaster. A male mallard duck plodded aimlessly across the road oblivious to any danger. At first I thought it was a wood pigeon or crow and would fly off but no, it kept plodding. My instinct kicked in and I swerved, probably the wrong thing to do at fifty miles an hour but it was automatic. I didn’t hear a thump so I guess it lived to see another day. But it does need to get a bit more savvy with traffic.

I had a list of several small jobs to do and because I was extra early, had plenty of time to complete most and still had time to just sit or walk about and observe the woods as they come alive once again. The wood anemones are in full bloom and the perfume from them drifted around. I hadn’t realised they had one, so I got down and stuck my nose into them. It was gentle and subtle and somehow seemed old fashioned, like a scent that a lovely old lady from my childhood might have worn. It filled me with a sense of well being, a tonic in today’s world of stress.

I set about my first jobs – rearranging some of the contents of the shelter to make more available space, then took a coffee break using my new little twig-burning stove that was a Christmas present. It burns very efficiently with virtually no smoke. This one works best by loading it up with short twigs packed vertically and fairly tightly, rather then those that require constant feeding. It then burns hot with no attention for a good fifteen minutes, time enough to cook something.

As well as the anemones flourishing, the wild garlic is really lush, beech and hazel leaves are starting to open and in the copse area, lots of tiny blue dog violets. I spent some time cleaving and rough shaping a chunk of beech wood that my neighbours gave me a few weeks ago. I am hoping to make a couple of rustic stools. The wood was really tough to split but very nice to work on with the axe. I took it home to continue working on.

The silver birch that I felled after the wind blew it over was still lying where I had cut it into log sized pieces. It needed shifting ready to split for firewood. That was hard work, moving a whole tree by hand in the space of half an hour is no mean feat for an old guy like me. I sat down for a rest and my friendly robin hopped around the new wood pile, searching for little tit-bits. When it had done it joined me for a rest. It landed a few feet in front of me as if to keep me company and just chill for a while. It didn’t move for a good five or ten minutes, just looking at me and quietly chattering, just like a human pal might do. These experiences are truly special and lift the soul.

I had fulfilled most of my tasks and before heading home, decided to take one more slow walk to see what was emerging in the hazel copse and this was when the surprise happened. There is a large open area where you can see the sky and as I looked up I saw a buzzard above me. I heard another calling and it came to join it. Then another and another and eventually there were six wheeling around in the wind, performing fantastic acrobatic feats in the air. I guess they are courting and looking for a mate. They came lower, just above the tree tops, then the finale. Two swooped down above me and into the trees about fifty metres away almost landing, then taking off again like jet aircraft. I could hardly contain my excitement and what a fabulous way to end my lovely day at the woods.