The Sound of Music

The skies and fields are filled with birdsong, the sound one continuous soaring of little voices rejoicing in the day. There are skylarks aplenty though I can't see them, the morning being muggy and the air filled with millions of miniscule droplets of moisture. It rained again overnight, so there was a powerful scent of midsummer as we walked out this morning. The verges are blowsy with perfumed growth, tall purple-fronded grasses pushing upwards through a backdrop of, oh I can't pretend to know their names though I've been told. If they were in the garden they would be weeds but out there they are perfect in their natural habitat, yellows and whites, cream and pinks, all beautiful. We walked the lanes, the fields and meadows being too soggy, and I kept Hugo firmly on the lead.

It was a different story yesterday evening. We had stewarded an art exhibition at Snape from midday to 2.30, me on a chair on the grass outside the Dovecote, doing the crossword and enjoying the view over the river, Hugo lying patiently by my side in the sun. Virtually nobody was around, there being a football match on television apparently. To reward the dog for his excellent behaviour I let him loose once we were free and off he raced full of exhilaration to have his head again. So why did I think he needed another gallop when we went out again later? We have many choices of walks around us, and one of them is up the forbidden track and off on a maze of paths around fields, or through them if they are empty. The first field on this route has been ploughed and harrowed ready for planting, and it looks very inviting. I glanced around it, spotting a few crows that I knew Hugo would chase and never catch, and so I let him off the lead. Immediately I spotted a hare just up the track, and so did he. And he was off, no starter's orders. They disappeared over the hill, and I hurried after them, heart thumping. Terrible scenarios shot through my head: he catches the hare or, much worse, they both race across the lane 500 yards or so away and into the churchyard, to be hit by a passing vehicle.

I was panting when I reached the top of the rise, and to my amazement there he was, standing stock still, no sign of blood or fur. I called him, and eventually he trotted over to me and allowed me to put his lead on. If I was panting he was heaving. All the way back he hauled on the lead trying to get away, urgently looking to right and left. And there were two more hares! I don't know what had happened in those short minutes when he chased the hare but he was very weird all evening. Jumpy, literally, and frisky, jittery and unpredictable. At one point he looked at me with a hunter's eye and I quaked. Had my whippet turned into a killer? It took ages to cool him off, helped by a few ice cubes. He couldn't find the right spot to lie, moving from cool tiles to the sofa beside me to his bed, nothing allowing him to rest. Eventually he fell asleep, so deeply I had to shake him awake to take him out for a last pee. Did the hare turn on him when he caught up? Or did he take fright? I'll never know. What I do know is that he won't be coming off the lead around here again. My heart won't stand the worry.

The garden is looking pretty. I'm managing to do some weeding with one and a half hands. Every little helps.