You can’t fail to miss the changing seasons on the Chayne. By comparison to the icy silence of January and February, the undergrowth is now alive with sound and movement. While I rant and rave against midgies, the wave of insect life has brought some fairly spectacular beasties to bear on the farm, and common hawkers have to be the best.
Comparable in size and shape to a magnum twelve bore cartridge, these monstrous helicopters race over the rushes and patrol around the ditches and puddles amongst the moss and heather. When they pass nearby, you can almost feel the throbbing buzz on your skin, and when they stop to hover, you wonder if it’s you that they’re eyeing up as prey. Decked out in the same distressingly gaudy colour scheme that you might expect to have found on a french cyclist in the mid 1980s, these neon clad airships are doing the rounds on all the wet flushes and bogs of the farm.
Hawkers are extremely impressive and worringly large insects, but I must admit that I don’t really know anything about them at all. As if I didn’t already have enough to learn, I’m confronted by yet another mystery.