Wellow

I'm in wellow.

Dad is stressing me out,- he keeps talking about all this trivial
stuff which seems so irrelevant and meaningless, - to the point where
I really explode. I yell my had off at him, and it freaks him out. I
go and do some stuff in the kitchen, and then go out for a walk.

Its been raining.

I catch up with joe, dad and matthew who are also out for a walk. We
wander up to the top of the hill and get confronted by a bog: either
go through or choose another way. I have my wellies on, but matthew
decides another way.

It leads round the bog via the river bridge. This is a big old railway
bridge, and far below lies the river. We can hear its rushing and
gushing as it waterfalls down and under.

For some reason, all I can think off as we cross the bridge is what it
would feel like to fall off into the vast torrent.


We stop on the bridge. This is one of the main rivers. I think its the
avon. The wellow brook joins it. We chat.

"It will be sad leaving wellow", dad says, "I always wished you'd get
a chance to go on the hunt".

"I've booked him on it this weekend", james said.

"Well," I say, "I could always go along and help out with something
that wasn't shooting".

I don't like the idea of shooting the animals. But I do think that
there are lots of other skills and valuable awareness lessons to be
learnt off these who know and understand animal behavior patterns so
well.


-

I have a little hide out place somewhere. A badger comes and finds me
in it, and hangs out with me, long enough for me to really get to know
him.