Dachaigh
What does home mean to you?
In the last few weeks the forest has exploded with myriad of woodland birds readying for the coming of offspring.
From our windows we see Bob n Bunty, the black birds busy back n forth, as they make a nest in the old gnarled Beech.
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Mistle Thrush on the lawn, heads cocked, listening intently for wriggling worms. Blue Tits and Bullfinch collect bedding materials. Pulling fibres from the knitted blanket on the rocking chair, plucking hairs from the sheepskin rug and picking up dog hair on the decking.The swallows have also returned, bringing Spring on their wings.
Swooping low and fast under the canopy of our house, seeking to find a spot to build theirs. The did the same last year but in the end opted for a roost in the rafters of the barn.
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Sir David Attenborough celebrated his 100th birthday this week, and few individuals have impacted humanity’s relationship with nature as profoundly as he.
Growing up, Sir David was (and still is) a legend in our house, his documentaries were not to be missed, all of sitting round the telly, transfixed. With each series, I was gifted the complimentary book, and still have my treasured copy of Life on Earth.![]()
Through decades of broadcasting, he has brought the living world into our homes, and helped inspire and educate generations with a sense of connection fundamental to the conservation of this place we all call home.
Ours is home to over 30 million different species of animals and plants, and we are part of, not separate from it. Everything and everyone is connected.
It was here, deep in the heart of the forest, in an old cold caravan, Foggy Bummers was born. Aye, the idea had been manifesting but it was the magic of Mother Nature that opened the door.
Home, so intertwined she and I, we can’t be told apart. Be it hail or shine, I love this landscape nonetheless.
Red squirrel abound atop the Beech, sure to be found in the bosom of our Mother Tree. The wee moosie, who made a house in a nook in our shed, cosy in his bed of duck down and dog hairs.
Roe deer and if you’re lucky a fawn, grazing in the misty meadow at dawn. Tod the Fox trots back and forth about his business. There’s Pine Marten with his braw, bushy brown tail, but so shy, blink and you’ll miss even a glimpse.
Sure as solar winds send borealis, moonlicht nichts bring Broch the Badger. Summer wings of dragonflies, butterflies and bees with secret keys. Buzzards and hawks. The recognizable rhyme of our resident ravens. The twit ta-woo of Tawny Owls and too many woodland birds to mention, but safe to say there’s a lot of Tit’s!
The velvet soft of my dog’s ears or the kiss with wet nose when needed most. The mossy scent in the forest after it’s rained. Our garden and the silence of growing things. Dawn chorus and songs that sing of Spring. Ripe red Rose Hip and Rowan, the scent of Scot’s Pine and boughed branches of Larch. The purple Elder, the Silver Birch, Copper Beech and Autumn’s amber.
Safe in the company of kin, creatures visit as ghosts, pay us no mind but matter the most. Here, in the turn of a leaf, we find the Universe hidden underneath.
Be it a caravan or a nook in a tree, home is where the heart is.
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“No one will protect what they don’t care about; and no one will care about what they have never experienced.” -Sir David Attenborough
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This is the inspiration for Tails from the Black House. In writing and illustrating the book, it is my wish that like Life on Earth (and Where The Wild Things Are) will help inspire young and old alike. To see the magic of Mother Nature and help care for the her a little more.
In our village shop the other day, I overheard a wee boy chatting to cashier. Locals often sell surplus plants and they were discussing the fact he loves to grow his own. The boy was about eight or nine, and said that some of the kids at school make fun of him but that he doesn't care. Because in his words "there's nothing like planting a seed and watching it grow into something beautiful."
As I made my way to the till, I had to hold back the tears.
As I made my way to the till, I had to hold back the tears.
It's easy to become lost in the destructive tensions of our times and default to despair. But as I watch the woodland birds couple and collect in readiness to craft new life, am reminded we too know the way home.
For each of us is a forest with a heart full of bird song.
Do small things with love, because lots of little mounts up to a lot.
Perhaps a plant pot in a sunny spot, maybe a window box or just a patch of grass, regardless,
like Spring, each step is a chance for a new beginning.
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