Rabbit footprints everywhere, much to the puzzlement of Four-legged-friend.
I'd rather cope with the panic-buying British masses, encouraged into a state of frenzy by forecasts of terrible snow and deadly cold, than have to be a rabbit and scrape frost and snow off my meagre bit of frozen grass.
Think Four-legged-friend agrees - a bowl of food, presented at regular intervals to your nose, is much easier.
But I would be rabbit rather than hedge:
Whenever I see this, my heart screams, "Aaaaaaaaaargh!"
Why subject our heritage to this? It's so, so ugly!!!!
The definition of flail is to beat or flog and the word is derived from the Latin flagellum or whip. To flail is therefore to punish by whipping. What warped form of countryside stewardship devised this brutal destruction of our historic hedgerows? Think of Constable's paintings - the hedgerows of rural England are little changed since then, except now they are beaten into submission. No-one would do this to the plants in their garden - unless the intention was to kill them! And the Hedgerow Protection Act of 1997 prevents removal through over maintenance that results in death. Supposedly.
Actually, here I have to tame my rant-that-was-going-to-be-a-mega-rant and admit that although species like the Brown Hairstreak butterfly are in decline, because winter flailing destroys their eggs, defra and numerous other countryside organisations support a regulated (carefully timed to avoid bird breeding seasons etc) programme of non-over-zealous flailing, as it has been found to be good for biodiversity.
While I am all for biodiversity, however, it strikes me that the elephant in this particular room, or field, is the fact that hedgerows are only protected where they are continuous and I suspect husbandry practices which mash the stems of bushes and splinter the trunks of trees will result in gaps and the inevitable drop from the current estimate of 70% of English hedgerows being covered by the protection act. And maybe in this day of mega farms that is the point. Or am I being too cynical?
And changing the subject, somewhat, from rant to lighter note, while I would hate to be a hedge, how much worse would it be to be made of snow?
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