The forest edge was very busy with robin song till dusk, then all went quiet. Somewhere out there, long-eared owls chicks squeaked hungrily for food. A tawny owl called twice then fell silent as my boots brushed the dead bracken. Following the forest edge uphill, I stopped to listen every 100m but all I heard was the gentle rushing of streams trickling off the moor. With such a clear, starry sky there would be a frost later and deciding to call it a day I strode back across the hill, pausing to marvel at the strange cry of a roding woodcock.
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