The setting sun glared in my eyes as I set off down the track from the village, but it was pleasantly cool as it dropped down into the wooded cleft that lead to the river, the trees being in full leaf now. Many of the trees beside the track were hawthorn, white with blossom, and the air was full of their musky odour. I have always found the smell erotic, though why I do not know. When I mentioned this to my wife last week, not having done so before, she said that hawthorn blossom scent had no such meaning or effect on her. Pity.

I walked along the river until I was opposite Quesse Wood and crossed the water meadow to the mouth of the valley. In the wood, the carpet of bluebell flowers had disappeared, leaving the ground covered by their leaves lying flat on the ground and the green seedheads standing on their stalks, except for a small clearing where they were still in flower. I have not noticed this before, and wondered whether these flowers last longer or whether they flower later because of the light.

As I scanned the badger sett through binoculars from the other side of the valley, insects danced in the light of the setting sun. It was half an hour before the first badger came up just after nine o’clock, scratched itself half-heartedly and went down again. A second badger appeared, looking larger than the first one, and listened intently while a dog yelped and whined in the distance, probably in the farmyard three fields away. It seemed quite disturbed by the noise, and suddenly darted back down the hole.

The breeze faded to nothing, and with my binoculars I could see that a myriad insects had taken to the air. Mosquitos which had to be dispatched silently kept landing on my hands, ears and face, but as the light went, so did the insects. There was no action from the sett until after half past nine, when a badger came up and ambled a few yards along the path leading from the hole and started gathering grass and leaves together into a bundle with its front legs. It then humped its way back along the path with the bundle tucked under its chin and dragged it down the hole.

And then nothing. Why are these badgers so cautious? I am certain there are cubs in the sett, and usually by this time of year they are coming up early and indulging in boisterous play. I left after ten o’clock, and walked back along the river, disturbing several herons at widely spaced intervals, standing like sentries at the waters edge.