A rather chaotic introduction to the world of wildlife.
Weed starched the air. It was unusual for this road not to smell of it. On all sides, council estates cast gloom over the pavement, and the sweet music of argumentative swearing raged from overhead balconies.
Headphones in, face down, hood up. I wasn’t far from home, only about 25minutes, but it felt like it. In those days, walking into the garden felt like an expedition into the outside world.
There were many reasons for this, one of which was rumbling up the pavement towards me, just out of my peripheral. A mass of fake tan, smoking, noise, and those black coats that look suspiciously like the Michelin Man.
I knew them from school. However, I’d not yet been clocked... So, head down, I swung into the next alley, up some stairs and bolted through a gap in the fence, taking a hard slap to the face from some brambles, dislodging my headphones and hood.
Emerging the other side of the thorny portal, a prodigality of alien life basked before me. I took a brief moment to drink in the giant daisies and buzzing skyscrapers of pink thistle, before snapping back to the task at hand; running up the steep chalky slope. The meadow hopped away from me as I did so, a chirruping, bounding mass.
10 seconds later, I stopped. With a stitch. Speedwalking ensued for a following 10 seconds, followed by normal walking, and eventually, I found myself almost at an unflattering crawl.
I reached the hill’s vibrant summit in a pile of my own sweat, my phone so hot Siri had glitched into life.
I turned to check progress. No groups of 15yr olds following, and a breathtaking view. Portsmouth, the Solent, the Isle of Wight and beyond were bathed in a shimmering ocean of high-Summer sunlight, rolling into the golden horizon.
I stumbled and grabbed my chest in pain as it lurched. A hot rush of Adrenaline stabbed me and ran down my spine, as a feathery stiletto shot away from me, arching up with a jarring screech. Across my back, I felt another abrupt presence and a rush of air, over in a millisecond. Another, equally feathered, equally black stiletto arched and looped at me.
A vortex of high-pitched tik… tik… tik…’s reverberated overhead as the pair circled, visions of yellow armour and ink-pool eyes. Every time one was about to launch an attack, its patient tiking exploded into a chorus of teeiik teeiik screams, as I also exploded – only into a chorus of swearing.
This continued for ages. Though every time the teeiik teeiik calmed back to the methodical tik… tik… I was able to quickly shuffle forwards another few steps, eventually collapsing in a bush. A few disgruntled tik… tik…’s later, and the Kestrels, satisfied the abnormally large crow in their territory, was gone (all thanks to my flapping, black hoodie) .
For a reserved 15yr old, whose life revolved around staying in his room painting; avoiding outside contact like the backstory of a Thriller, this was not enjoyable, at the time. But sitting in the fetal position in that bush, stained in chalk and traumatized, I felt more alive than I had for years.
There’s a viscera, a rawness to moments like that, immersed in nature. Joy, wonder, fear and adrenaline coagulate. And it’s something I’ve felt countless times since – hiding from a wild horse with my then-girlfriend, being chased down a street by a badger, or wandering, lost, in Norfolk, to the chorus of wild Cranes.
I believe, that there is something deep-set inside of us, something innate and binding, that links us to nature. It tests our senses, awakens our mental, flexes our emotions. And that’s why I’m drawn back to it, again and again. It’s a drug which many sadly have never tried. But I’m proud to say 4yrs on, that this experience got me truly addicted.
Comments