BADGER SETT FELL HUNT CATCHING
REFUGE
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Pine trees
pierced the black silhouette of the night sky. The orchestral lights displayed
their brilliance. The fell valley, cloaked in darkness. An owl hooted in the
emptiness. An anonymous rustle stole into the undergrowth.
I felt, as,
step by step, my feet treading the leaf strewn trail, underneath, Mother Earth,
refuge of Nature’s nocturnal nomads.
Briars clutching my jacket. The
terrain turned to assailant, catching me unaware.
Sounds spooked me. Shadows
danced. Sweat beaded my brow. My boots
cloyed with mud, an upturned tree trunk, orphan of last Winter’s storm,
announced its blockade. STOP!
Refuge of
the night, comfort of cubs, I stumbled into the gaping entrance of badgerdom,
refuge of cubs, bringer of day, detritus of bones and fur, the sweet sick odour
of upturned Earth, the Sett.
I clawed at
branches, brambles, emptiness and hit the ground, a ringing in my ears. Did I
hear the piercing wail of a horn, heralding a hunt, dogs braying, barking,
bringing an eternal night?
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