After a Saturday of cold wind and heavy rain, Sunday dawned bright and dry. At least I assume that it dawned thus, for I was still asleep at first light, But, when I awoke at 10am after a long and satisfying sleep, it was bright, dry and generally pleasant out. The night must have been cold, though, as the cat had found his way under the duvet by my feet.
Out riding, we crossed through the mossy old copse on Fyfield Down, where Brena devoured some leave whilst I took in the silence. This is a remarkable place where time hangs heavy. I've never seen another person here. If anyone came, they'd need to duck under low branches and weave between gnarled old trees like we did.
Out in the open again, I saw tell-tale signs of rooting wild boar. For many years there were no boar in the UK however, a couple of decades ago, some escaped from a farm where they were being reared for meat. Their range has been extending year after year. Now, for the first time, I've seen signs of boar within riding distance of the barn.
This isn't a worry. Brena has seen boar before, in Italy where she used to live. I've seen them in Romania. And we've encountered domestic pigs turned loose in the New Forest during the pannage season without ill effect.
Anyway, it's unlikely that we'd be up here at dawn (especially) or dusk when boar come out to scavenge. Though it would be most interesting to see these reclusive creatures.
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