Сельское лирическое писмо Lyrical country writing

The hour after dawn under an open sky is a beautiful time of birdsong, dewdrops and the lingering smell of scavenging foxes. As I walk over to the cows, with my exhaled breath white, to check for new arrivals, I leave a trail of wet footprints alongside those of badger, muntjac deer and fox. The foxes always turn up when there is the prospect of cow afterbirth to enjoy . . . They [sheep and cows on being let out in spring] ran, jumping and frisking, as they always do on release from their winter yard – heavily pregnant matrons with bellies bouncing and udders swinging are not one of nature’s prettiest sights.

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