Country diary: Farewell to my old cottage – we had some wild times
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Version 0 of 1. Cranbrook, Kent: Courting beetles in spring and ghoulish wasp larvae in late summer – it was their home every bit as it was mine Moving day is here, and I find myself staring at the old cottage. She’s a scruffy, tumble-down affair – more of the landscape than in it. I’ll miss her: the dark oak bones with an ochre skin of clay brick, the handsome burnt headers in bold contrast to the veins of pale lime mortar. A building can still be visited, of course, but a place in a community cannot – and it is this knowledge that strikes me hardest. While I’m fond of my human neighbours, what has brought me real joy here is my sense of belonging, in among the menagerie of seasonal wild visitors. Spring is heralded by the rhythmic tap of courting deathwatch beetles, rapping their mandibles against the wooden beams from which they emerge. Soon after, the knots of hibernating ladybirds about the windows unravel and disperse, crawling over the panes until I open the casements to set them free. Lacewings follow, while outside, sparrows trailing strands of sheep wool from their beaks cram every slipped-tile cranny with nests, which soon throng with the begging of chicks. Summer arrives with a new wave of insects: bumblebees pottering beneath the eaves, wasps streaming to and from their nests in the crooked roof, and masonry bees working tunnels into the soft mortar. Black ants patrol the house for crumbs and, on warm evenings, swarm the outer walls as their new queens take flight, a feast that brings the shrieking swifts swooping low. Cabbage white butterflies pupate in the lobby as the warm days wane, but few survive the parasitic wasp larvae that consume them from within and bubble from their flanks in hideous fashion – a process I observe with grim delight as I consider my caterpillar‑ravaged brassicas. Autumn brings the rodents home, and with them the curious sport of discerning brown rat from yellow-throated mouse as they scrabble in the lath-and-plaster walls. Turning to leave, an old memory surfaces: the memory of a young boy who begged for a bedroom wild with animals and insects, a leaf-litter carpet, and shrubs in place of curtains. Thank you Stream Cottage for bringing me so close. Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at guardianbookshop.com and get a 15% discount |