The first sounds in the grey before light come from a crow; three croaky caws that disturb a pheasant.
The wind has swung round again. Now from the south-east with bitterness unabated, it takes all the heat from the air. Sky is blue; the Sun piercing bright.
In early afternoon, up on the track, two leggy hinds pick their way through the boundary hedges before bounding off across the dry hillside.
A pair of hares race at full pelt down the slope of the next dusty field, disturbing fifty fat pigeons pecking at the harrowed soil.
A trio of red kites float over the beech trees, drawing wide, lazy circles on the breeze.
Ducks on the salt marsh scrapes feed relentlessly. Geese are becoming restless as the time approaches when they return to their summer breeding grounds. Pee-wits perform acrobatic tricks on the wind while making noises reminiscent of static interference on a night-time wireless show.
By bedtime weariness simplifies our night-time parting. Sleep comes swiftly once the RAF jet’s echo has rolled away.