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Writer's pictureJen Blaxall.

Pigbush New Forest

What a beautiful morning for a walk at Pigbush. The ancient and twisted trees of Roebarrow make this woodland very mystical.

A surprising call from a nightjar could be heard from the nearby heath on my mid-morning walk. I felt shrouded in green with the swaying trees in the stiff breeze and understorey of bracken frantically trying to get my attention as it waved at me so keenly. I could hear squirrels rustling around in the abundance of bracken before appearing halfway up a tree and the busy chattering of a charm of goldfinches landed in the path ahead to tidy up before heading to their next job!

Dipping between ancient woodland and open heath, this walk offers so many sights and sounds. But the two things that were consistent on the beautiful morning was the call of the cuckoo and the rumbling sound of the regular trains passing. One minute, I am breathing in the aroma of bog myrtle and watching stonechats angrily shout from gorse and hawthorn. The next I am watching speckled wood butterflies tumble through sunny woodland glades and catching a glimpse of a low flying goshawk.

Turning onto Woodfidley passage, the trees are watching as you walk past their exposed roots. Old gnarly holly trees have faces and ancient beech trees stretch our their boughs to feel you as you wander through.

Heading through the gate into the inclosure the paths are edged with foxgloves and buttercups and in sheltered pockets from the wind butterflies basked and dragonflies rattled by.

I sat for a moment to watch the sunlight dance through the trees as they ebbed and flowed in the breeze but was distracted by the hissing of power as a train approached the nearby line. It gave a blast on the horn when approaching the pedestrian crossing before the hissing subsided and the nature sounds became dominant once more.

After crossing the line I entered the green and mossy woodland, not often dry here and still a little soft under foot. Long grasses are going to seed in this enchanting forest and the sun was catching the fluffy pompom tips where redstarts dropped and foraged on the soft ground before taking to the trees once more.

It wasn't long before I was in a landscape of myrtle and cotton flower once more before the old, long-limbed Oak tree of Pigbush wood invited me back into the ancient trees to see me on my way back to your car.

What a great start to the week!

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