November - the Hoodie month

The early 19th century poet, Thomas Hood, wrote what I recall as a bit of word play on the 11th month that is November. It ends as follows:

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member.
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!

Spot on for this Wednesday morning. Except for the lack of comfortable feel -modern outdoor clothing prevents the chill in any extremity - it perfectly described the day. The previous day was an entirely different matter with blue skies and clear distant vision. But I was stuck with today. It was a Thomas Hood day. The hood of grey sat upon the parkland and apart from the usual corvid activity over Broomroyd, there was very little happening. The red deer were sensibly crowded towards the Rotunda end of the parkland out of the cold wind. Even they seemed lethargic. No movement, no urgency, no wish to run away from an approaching human as I made my way across from the house towards the rotunda.
The bracken, thick around the Argyll monument, still shows the colours of autumn. The trees have almost given up on hanging on to their dying remnants. I heard the rattle of a mistle thrush. Pheasants were flushed frequently from the woodland edges.

I walked my favourite route which is roughly a figure of eight. It means passing the rotunda twice. On the return to the rotunda I have an option. Today, I chose the longer return to the house walking down the hill and past Ivas Wood plantation. It was then I came across the single red deer. Grazing quite happily inside the parkland fence, it was quite clearly on its own. I had no idea, but I guessed this was the friendly singleton that was recently introduced to the parkland.
On the previous two patrols, this animal had no hesitation in wanting to be close. But, perhaps for its own survival, it might need to develop a wariness of humans, a sense of which it clearly had not, but only one of absolute trust. If this was the case, then it was developing well. It ignored me totally.
It goes without saying that no people were seen.

Halloween and Guy Fawkes

I always think that with the arrrival of November, heralded by Halloween and banged in with Bonfire Night, the trees begin to take on their winter look. Leaves fall with great suddenness and the ground is carpeted. It only takes a few stormy winds and the process is complete and such it is this autumn. The drive, alongside Lady Lucy's walk, going up into the gardens, was now carpeted with fallen leaves when only a week previously the grass was clearly visible.

The sun is also falling. By December 21st, the sun will rise its laziest, reaching the lowest points in the sky and, in the mornings it shines, when it does, with a warm glow. The house, across the parkland, shaded with long but soft shadows, takes on an appearance of a painting, perhaps made in the 19th century. This is certainly a favourite view of mine.
There were quite a few people about today and we managed to speak to each of them. All that we met are delighted with the place, whether on a first visit or another of many. And today, we might have even encouraged a new volunteer.

Once again, I have been unable to patrol for a week or so, but I had been to the house and gardens to support pumpkin carving and broomstick making. On the night of Halloween, there was drama in the dark, as actors brought to life the melodramatic story of murders and tortured spirits as the audeince promenaded around the garden. Excellent fun for all. Even the owls with their screeching and hooting added to the atmosphere. Although the year end is approaching the increased human activity has made up for the lack of action from the visible wildlife.