{"id":1034,"date":"2021-05-28T08:22:56","date_gmt":"2021-05-28T08:22:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.org\/?p=1034"},"modified":"2021-05-28T12:14:08","modified_gmt":"2021-05-28T12:14:08","slug":"in-natures-realm-by-david-carson","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/?p=1034","title":{"rendered":"In Nature&#8217;s Realm by David Carson"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-rich is-provider-soundcloud wp-block-embed-soundcloud wp-embed-aspect-4-3 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"In Nature&#039;s Realm by David Carson. Read by Greg Powrie by Pitlochry Festival Theatre\" width=\"1200\" height=\"400\" scrolling=\"no\" frameborder=\"no\" src=\"https:\/\/w.soundcloud.com\/player\/?visual=true&#038;url=https%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F1046881747&#038;show_artwork=true&#038;maxheight=1000&#038;maxwidth=1200\"><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">It\u2019s a fine morning for a cycle. In times like this, with only a once a day opportunity for outdoor exercise, any weather is fine.&nbsp; The rain has cleared.&nbsp; It\u2019s cloudy but dry, with little or no wind. And just as the conditions are quiet, so the roads will be too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">&nbsp;There\u2019s a long stretch that cars often use on the commute journey, but which will these days be much quieter. It should literally be the road less travelled. A chance then to see some alternative scenery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I negotiate a couple of small hills, wondering why inclines still tax my lungs despite being a regular feature of all my outings, and go round a bend that leads to the straight that stretches unbroken for a mile or more. Uneven hedges line each side, shielding access to rough grazings, but&nbsp; with gaps for gates big enough for tractors. I can hear water as it percolates from the fields and runs into the ditch at the side of the road. There\u2019s the sound of a thrush voicing its pleasure high above in the branches of a copse of trees, whose leaves rustle gently. It pleases me to be here, listening to these hubbubs of nature that normally are drowned out by the noise of cars and lorries. I settle into the regular rhythm of legs pushing pedals and the swish of tyres as they scythe through the occasional puddle. The road stretches empty and inviting and flat before me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNice morning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I half turn in my saddle.&nbsp; I\u2019m used to being overtaken by fitter and, in my defence, younger cyclists, who glide up behind then accelerate past. I raise a hand to wave. But there\u2019s no-one there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">It happens sometimes that I\u2019m so engrossed in my own thoughts that I imagine that the voice in my head has come from outside. I shrug and turn my attention back to the road.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNot speaking then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The voice is gruff, deep, and coming from somewhere below me. I\u2019m reluctant to trust the evidence of my own ears, so continue to stare ahead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cYou\u2019re not being very polite.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I look down.&nbsp; A fox is padding alongside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cWhere did you spring from?\u201d&nbsp; I can\u2019t think of anything else to say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cI don\u2019t spring, as you put it.&nbsp; I leave that to others, like cats.&nbsp; Or deer. There are a few in these parts.&nbsp; Friendly, as well. I came through the hedge.\u201d&nbsp; The fox gives a nod of the head. \u201cMind if I join you for a bit?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I\u2019m finding it difficult to concentrate, so I stop. My feet are planted on the road. The fox inspects my shoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cDon\u2019t often get the chance for a chat.&nbsp; This road is usually very busy. A wrong move and you\u2019re history. I avoid it.&nbsp; Until now.\u201d He sniffs my leggings. \u201cLucky I heard you a moment ago, puffing up that wee hill.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I stare at him, taking in the bushiness of his tail, the rusty red coat, the stripes on his shoulders, the diffuse patterns on his spine. I can see that the fur on his head and lower legs is denser than the fur on the rest of his body. And it dawns on me that, for all their ubiquity, I\u2019ve never properly looked at a fox.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cThose are my thermal windows you\u2019re admiring, the thick layer. Handy for keeping warm.\u201d I sense the pride in his voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cI didn\u2019t think foxes felt the cold.\u201d I realise I\u2019m being drawn into a conversation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cDogs do, so why not foxes? We\u2019re much the same after all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">My feet are back on the pedals, I\u2019m starting to move. The fox shakes himself and keeps pace with me. He gets a bit close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cMind my pedals.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He looks up at me with a hint of disdain. \u201cWhen you\u2019ve avoided strangely dressed men on horseback making weird noises and intent on grievous bodily harm, a bicycle wheel is neither here nor there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cSurely not.&nbsp; It\u2019s illegal to go hunting you now, has been for years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The fox shakes his head.&nbsp; His tail sweeps sideways. \u201cIt still happens, make no mistake. Not so obviously I grant you. You think you\u2019re safe, but I\u2019ve lost family. You people don\u2019t care.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Maybe he\u2019s right.&nbsp; I\u2019m trying to remember what I know about foxes. Words like sly and cunning and scavenging come to mind.&nbsp; Where did I learn that?&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I see a car coming towards us. I steer closer to the side of the road. The fox moves to and fro on the verge. As the car approaches, the driver\u2019s face takes on a scowl, and then he raises a fist and brandishes it in our direction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I shake my head.&nbsp; \u201cDon\u2019t worry about him. Motorists and cyclists are not always tolerant roadfellows.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The fox is not convinced.&nbsp; \u201cThere\u2019s a lot you don\u2019t know. He wouldn\u2019t have done that if I had been a dog.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">We move on, the fox with his snout close to the ground. I ask if he\u2019s got the scent of something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNo.&nbsp; I\u2019m thinking.&nbsp; About the people that don\u2019t like to see us foxes roaming free. They think of us as a chance to make money. It\u2019s our fur.\u201d He moves more quickly, tail up, head set at a defiant angle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I\u2019ve heard of fox farms. I once saw a programme on television about them.&nbsp; I don\u2019t like to think about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cYou know,\u201d he says finally, \u201cI wouldn\u2019t mind having the life of a dog. I am after all a dog fox.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cYou mean, like as in being a pet?\u201d&nbsp; He must have seen me shake my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cYou don\u2019t think that\u2019s possible?&nbsp; You want us foxes to wander the streets looking for food while pet dogs lead a life of ease and plenty?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">&nbsp;His tail is moving in wide semi circles. For the first time since the start of this encounter I feel anxious. Maybe I should up the speed and get away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNo,\u201d I reassure him, \u201cit\u2019s not that. It\u2019s just, you\u2019d need to give up your, your way of life, you couldn\u2019t wander the fields at will\u201c.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cGive up a life of struggle to get food, of avoiding traffic, of escaping lethal pursuers, oh yes, I could cope with that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I add, hastily, \u201cI have heard of foxes being pets.\u201d I hope he doesn\u2019t ask for examples.&nbsp; Instead, he barks. \u201cI have as well. Virtue signalling is what we in the vulpine world call it. Hypocrisy, in other words. Something unknown to us, but rife in your society.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cCan\u2019t quarrel with that\u201d, I reply.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">We\u2019re getting to the end of the long straight stretch. I wonder what the fox will do now.&nbsp; I ask him, \u201cwhat name should I call you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cWhy do you ask? Is it important? I don\u2019t know who you are, and I\u2019ve no intention of finding out. Our paths have crossed, and insofar as it goes it\u2019s been an interesting exchange.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I look down at him. \u201cSo this is the parting of the ways then? Well, thank you for your company.&nbsp; I\u2019ll not forget you in a hurry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cYes. Maybe. But it\u2018s what you remember that counts.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">And with a final swish of his tale he darts through the hedge and disappears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I stop and stretch my back. It\u2019s stiff from looking down and pedalling slowly. What did he mean, I wonder. It\u2019s not every day you have a blether with a fox.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">&nbsp;I turn into a narrow road and follow it until it joins another, which I know well. It takes me along the foot of a low range of hills, with woods on one side and fences on the other. The sun has come out, and I settle into a regular leg- friendly rhythm, taking in the peaceful countryside. My thoughts stray. When you\u2019re on your own for long periods of time, it\u2019s easy to live an inner life. When did I last have a real conversation?&nbsp; When I was in the garden and folk passed on the street on the other side of the wall? Desultory at best. Imagination fills in the gaps. Reality recedes. The mind plays tricks. Is that what this morning\u2019s been all about?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">It happens very suddenly. I have to brake sharply.&nbsp; Three deer have broken from the cover of the trees and lope across the road in front of me.&nbsp; In one soaring motion they vault over the fence on the far side and land gracefully in a field. I am about to continue when I see that they have stopped, and are coming back, as a group, towards the fence. I\u2019m sure they\u2019re looking at me. In fact, with an upward nod of the head, and a pawing motion with their limbs, they\u2019re beckoning me to come towards them. Now they\u2019re leaning over the fence and staring at me. One of them opens his mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I maybe say it out loud, but the word echoes in my head.&nbsp; \u201cNo!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I speed homeward, my feet never touching the ground. I sigh with relief as I park my bike.&nbsp; It\u2019s only later, when I go to wash off the accumulated mud&nbsp; that I see the traces of rusty red furon the nearside pedal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Aye, I see now. It\u2019s what you remember.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><em>(<\/em>In Nature\u2019s Realm<em> is the title of a tone poem by the Czech composer Antonin Dvorak. It\u2019s the first part of a trilogy subtitled <\/em>Nature, Life and Love<em>.)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\">David Carson<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>David Carson tells of an unexpected meeting at the height of the Covid 19 lockdown. His funny, life-affirming story read is by Greg Powrie and you can read it for yourself, here.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":1033,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"neve_meta_sidebar":"","neve_meta_container":"","neve_meta_enable_content_width":"","neve_meta_content_width":0,"neve_meta_title_alignment":"","neve_meta_author_avatar":"","neve_post_elements_order":"","neve_meta_disable_header":"","neve_meta_disable_footer":"","neve_meta_disable_title":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[16],"tags":[15,109,110,22,93,83,28],"class_list":["post-1034","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-stories","tag-dundee","tag-fiction","tag-nature","tag-nethergate-writers","tag-pftlighthopejoy","tag-pitchlochry-festival-theatre","tag-scotland"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1034","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1034"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1034\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1057,"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1034\/revisions\/1057"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1033"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1034"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1034"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nethergatewriters.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1034"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}