A not so rude awakening
Being woken earlier than you want to be is a feature of living in the countryside. When we moved to our house in Nairnshire, there were some hens and a cockerel already resident (abandoned by the previous occupiers) and we soon got used to Mr Oats crowing at the top of his voice any time from about 2am onwards in the summer. After one particularly frustrating morning which saw me in my nightie and wellies flinging open the hen house door and yelling SHUT UP! at a row of bewildered blinking hens, we admitted defeat and re-sited the run at the far end of the garden.
Then there were the baby swallows that went mad every morning when their breakfast was brought – right outside our bedroom window. And the cuckoo on the telegraph wire behind the holiday cottage. And the seagull tapdancing on the caravan roof…
This morning it was an enthusiastic robin serenading a lamp-post just outside the house. It was 4.45am. I turned over, started to feel annoyed, then noticed how beautiful the sound was. The wind had dropped at last and the music was streaming out of the silent night. I lay there for a while just listening and eventually drifted off again. Lovely.