ABSTRACT
That evening, as I walk the dogs through our fields before heading down the lane, I take a hard look at my surroundings, remembering the day we moved in. Ancient oaks nestle among overgrown hedgerows tumbled with honeysuckle, their grassy banks strewn with wild flowers. A small orchard of gnarled but productive apple trees lies squeezed between the fields and beyond that a fruit and 20vegetable patch, a sanctuary where hundreds of birds rear their young each year. Swallows and house martins, attracted by rich pickings, swoop over the muck-heap and, as evening falls, fluttering bats take their place.
