Nature is brimming with bucolic bliss; The air is full of the trill of varied bird song, the sound of cocks crowing, hens clucking and the increasingly agitated tap tap tap as our slightly deranged gander head butts the window attempting to get at his own reflection in the glass. The tranquility is broken only by the whine of a neighbouring farmers chainsaw , doing his bit for the environment by lopping about ancient oaks whilst balancing somewhat precariously on the roof of his tractor cab. thus setting off the goats doing whatever that strangled cry they make is called at the top of their discordant voices; sheep bleating and the dogs ( not wishing to be out done by the cloven hooved creatures of the household) howling like the hounds of hell, this annoys the geese who honk and call upon the ducks for aquatic support which in turns frightens the hens who are convinced in true hen tradition that the end of the world is nigh,and it is so noisy I have to retreat inside in order to talk on the telephone.
The village church rings out the midday bell. The farmer descends from the dizzying heights of his tractor roof and climbs into his little white van and retreats to his farm for lunch . the animals, having satisfied themselves of a job well done chasing the farmer away with their combined cacophony ,settle themselves down after all their exertion and all that can be heard is bird song, until 12.30 when the little yellow post van arrives and honks its horn and it all starts again it all starts.
I do love living in the countryside, it is so peaceful here.