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You can find the current article at its original source at https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2017/oct/10/country-diary-dark-trees-guard-even-darker-mysteries
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| Version 2 | Version 3 |
|---|---|
| Country diary: dark trees guard even darker mysteries | Country diary: dark trees guard even darker mysteries |
| (2 days later) | |
| The morning sun shines through the canopy of the wood at the bottom of the hill, making the fallen leaves on the ground glow rust-red. The steep chalk and grey mud track is greasy from last night’s rain. Either side, flocks of tits – blue, great, coal and long-tailed – flit about, and wrens heckle my laboured climb with loud alarm calls. | The morning sun shines through the canopy of the wood at the bottom of the hill, making the fallen leaves on the ground glow rust-red. The steep chalk and grey mud track is greasy from last night’s rain. Either side, flocks of tits – blue, great, coal and long-tailed – flit about, and wrens heckle my laboured climb with loud alarm calls. |
| At the top of the hill, the strong, cold wind is shaking the trees, some already stripped skeletal-bare. Emerging into the open, I turn on to the South Downs Way and follow the path through a gate, over a cattle grid. The soft contour of the hilltop sweeps up to the early iron age fort, hidden by a cap of dark trees. | At the top of the hill, the strong, cold wind is shaking the trees, some already stripped skeletal-bare. Emerging into the open, I turn on to the South Downs Way and follow the path through a gate, over a cattle grid. The soft contour of the hilltop sweeps up to the early iron age fort, hidden by a cap of dark trees. |
| Jackdaws dance in the sky in a gang, struggling against the breeze, while a much bigger raven floats calmly above them. The raven plays on the wind, raising its broad wings and splaying the primary feathers – the “fingers” – at its wingtips. Its heavy bill opens and it barks four times. The jackdaws swarm up towards it, and it banks and turns, trying to shake them, but they persist, three jackdaws taking turns to dive-bomb the larger bird. | Jackdaws dance in the sky in a gang, struggling against the breeze, while a much bigger raven floats calmly above them. The raven plays on the wind, raising its broad wings and splaying the primary feathers – the “fingers” – at its wingtips. Its heavy bill opens and it barks four times. The jackdaws swarm up towards it, and it banks and turns, trying to shake them, but they persist, three jackdaws taking turns to dive-bomb the larger bird. |
| The original circle of beech trees of Chanctonbury Ring was planted in 1760 by the landowner, Charles Goring. Some were replaced in the early 20th century, but most were lost in the storm of October 1987. Before new trees were planted, archaeologists excavated the area inside the ring, hoping to learn more about two temples built during the Roman period, between about AD50 and AD400. Among the discoveries, the secondary, polygonal flint building was found to contain pig bones, possibly from ritual sacrifices. There’s a lingering sense of mystery about the hill, with local folklore featuring the devil, fairies, ghosts and UFOs. | The original circle of beech trees of Chanctonbury Ring was planted in 1760 by the landowner, Charles Goring. Some were replaced in the early 20th century, but most were lost in the storm of October 1987. Before new trees were planted, archaeologists excavated the area inside the ring, hoping to learn more about two temples built during the Roman period, between about AD50 and AD400. Among the discoveries, the secondary, polygonal flint building was found to contain pig bones, possibly from ritual sacrifices. There’s a lingering sense of mystery about the hill, with local folklore featuring the devil, fairies, ghosts and UFOs. |
| A hobby dashes low over the grass. It flaps hard and climbs up into the air, hunting the rising butterflies. I watch as it snatches at one with its talons, then another. Sometimes it hits a butterfly but fails to grasp it fully, and the disabled insect spirals down to the ground, like a tumbling leaf. | A hobby dashes low over the grass. It flaps hard and climbs up into the air, hunting the rising butterflies. I watch as it snatches at one with its talons, then another. Sometimes it hits a butterfly but fails to grasp it fully, and the disabled insect spirals down to the ground, like a tumbling leaf. |
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