Open Bestiary

A question mark over what I witness. The creature may be a dog or a fox, can't tell at first, it is too far away.

Closer, and nothing else moves for that split second of 'visitation'; when what I am seeing is unexpected, so close to the wild. A hare exposed on the beach, dabbing around between breakwaters.

Then the quicksilver scatter of grit when it spots me and charges away, up onto the beach-head track; the autumnal red of its flanks powered up and moving fast to find cover in the grass and shallow dykes of the bordering scrubland. Even on the grey/purple stones, against which it is not best camouflaged, it seems almost to wink out of existence, a liminal thing in the early dusk - hard to look at straight. When it reaches cover, it stops momentarily on a low crest to check my position and I see then its full ancient glory, almost mythical, in profile - the wild eye, the feral ears and nose, the magnificence of poise and power.

A Herring Gull passes close and the hare moves on, disappearing behind the sandy ridge into a shallow ditch. I hope it will re-appear on the land-line close by the river's edge beyond and raise itself in silhouette there, but it is gone as surely as it came.

This small wilderness at Slaughden, the no-man's-land between Aldeburgh and the Ness, where once a village existed and was taken by the sea is proving a magical zone; a little natural gift that most people, apart from the occasional dog-walker and Sunday morning tourist, seem to ignore. I think it is a place to learn from, to revisit and re-read as often as possible. I suspect, by its very 'border' identity, it's (literally) 'in-between-ness', it will always throw up the unusual and rare.

Slaughden

23/5/06