I smiled when I read about the cows in Japan. When the sky darkened briefly during the solar eclipse yesterday, many cows in the villages stood by the feeding stations, thinking it was meal time. How cute!
Last night, after being harrassed by a mosquito in my bedroom in the wee hours of the morning, I decided to sleep on the sofa. As I was tossing about, I heard the pitter patter of Rusty's little paws as he went about searching for me. He had awoken to find me missing on my bed and went looking everywhere, even in the kitchen, thinking I left the house without feeding or walking him!
CH was telling me how he doesn't hear cockerels crowing at dawn anymore. How true! Growing up, we could always rely on the trusted cocks to do the job. Nobody owned any alarm clocks in the village.
Then when the sun sets in the evening, the crickets and cicadas will start their symphony. The bullfrogs joined in ocassionally.
During the day, when we heard crows call, it was a sign of rain to come. Just before dusk, we watched swallows sweep across the pastures, so gracefully and swiftly as they foraged for food.
We would prepare for rain at night when we saw huge gathering of flies (the kind that shed wings easily) around the lamp. They may be harmless but so annoying because they leave a mess on the floor the next morning. It was common practice to leave pails of water beneath the lamps to invite them to plunge right in.
Living near the reservoir had its charms. Sometimes we were lucky enough to see fireflies twinkling in the dark or bats swooping over the fields to catch a meal.
Toads came out in droves after sunset, sometimes hopping into our canvas shoes to nest. If we were not careful, we would step into a squishy soft body the next morning.
Sadly, all the insects and animals, even the dreadful toads are becoming such a rarity now. Urbanisation has driven them to near extinction on our little island.
All we hear now is noise from manmade things. I do miss the simple, natural life.