Freedom to Think

It's nice to care

I think it is a nice thing to care passionately about things. Tis not a neccesity nor indeed I guess are the things we care about often a welcome imposition on the people we interact with. I also deem that oftentimes caring strongly about something can lead to many exhibitions of bullying, master talk, passive aggression and so forth as our distinct character types seek to use 'causes' as a way to advance our positions in human interactions...ooooeeerrrrr!


Anyway a page or two prior I put a link in to 'British Countryside'. Just had another look and this was what I found.


In 1950's Britain there was a population of around 36 million hedgehogs. Today that is less than 1 million. Let me if I may give you some comparison. In 1939 at the beginning of the worst human conflict in history the population of the United Kingdom was around 47 million. Total casualties in the 6 year atrocity that followed, in Britain numbered 450 thousand. Compare, thirty five out of every thirty six hedgehogs that lived 60 years ago are now extinct.....


The best explanations as to why are apparently....Hedgehogs are not good at crossing roads; and apparently we are eroding their habitat with the advent of so many proud gardeners , with their defensive boundary fences and walls, patios, decking, shingle and so forth. To the writer this sounds mightily like neglect and disinterest....


When I was a young boy I can remember waiting and watching as the hedgehog came on a summers evening and drank from the dog's bowl on the back step, and even ate occasionally from the small things I would find and leave on that step. A young boy learning patience and a warmth in life's simple pleasures.


When was the last time you saw one of these gentle and timid creatures?


No I don't advocate a donation to some 'guilt salving' faceless charity, but for the sake of all of our wildlife, wherever you are, whatever your habitat, perhaps try this.


Go knock a hole in the fence, let that leafy ground cover grow, go dig a trench, pop a little piece of pipe under the driveway, lest you wake up too one day lamenting the loss and asking. 'Where did they go? If only I'd known

Journeys of Jackman ..The wanderings, musings, learning and thoughts from one man who woke up


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Click to grow your knowledge



Fruit picking in the warmth, what a lovely day

Forget the trials of life and let love take you away


Wasps a buzz the mantra strong 'they are scared of me'

But woe betide, I duck and hide, the buzzing of a bee


Strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, holding daddy's hand

He picks high and I pick low, ne'er a day so grand


People dotted around, but none invade our space

A summer's day down on the farm, I think I make my case


Excited chatter like a babbling brook, cos I am only seven

He doesn't know I love him so, a little piece of heaven


And though it ends the memories made and I shall not forget

And though I've got a tummy ache still I've no regret


I think my father treasures this, but does he know me too?

I guess he must, who wrote this verse and loves me through and through?

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