To my left I barely glimpse a sudden movement, however the first I see of the roe deer is as it gracefully skips away, gliding over the fallen branches with effortless ease to disappear into the dense woodland. Only a few steps on and another one, this time to my right, springs away, the white tuft of its rear the only part visible through the scrub and vegetation. A rustling amongst the trees indicates a possible third but it is difficult to see, so well is it camouflaged.
A mighty beech is covered in splitting buds and there is just a smattering of young leaves, appearing in clusters. The wood is noticeably greener and denser and the floor more dappled than a few weeks ago, although the canopy has still a way to go before its takes on the fullness of summer, when its shade from the heat of the day comes as a welcome relief. It is this lack of a full covering that makes spring the best time of year to see woodland flowers, when they provide a valuable food source for insects, bees and butterflies. As each creature and plant takes advantage of the change in conditions, they cannot help affecting the other life that surrounds them. Whether it is a caterpillar feeding on a leaf, a woodpecker drilling a hole in a tree or the canopy of leaves blocking out light from the ground plants, everything has its part to play in the complex inter-dependencies of a healthy, thriving bio-diverse environment, each striving to survive and reproduce, each needing the other. And this is never more apparent as it is during a woodland spring. By late spring, merging into early summer, with the coming of deeper shade, the woodland floor reverts to mainly green, as the plants set seed to await the warmth and sunlight of the next spring. However, today, the bright sun still pours through the open canopy to bathe the woodland floor, picking out the mosses and fresh growth and the wonderful flowers, such as the brilliant white of wood anemones and woodruff that lines the edge of the path.
The path twists and climbs slowly, becoming completely shaded by the overhanging vegetation, which forms a long green tunnel, at the end of which is the brightness of the sky. It passes beside trees and giant limbs that have fallen during the winter, including a huge beech, and that have been left to provide a habitat for numerous fungi, bugs and insects that will in turn support the woodland birds and small mammals. Their demise has also opened up a large area of woodland floor, allowing life-giving sunshine and warmth to encourage dormant wildflowers. It will be well-worth returning next spring to see what difference it has made to the flower population. A pile of jumbled branches, crushed by the weight of the giant tree as it fell, lie like a collection of bleached bones. A weighty limb, torn but still attached to its ravaged trunk, hangs down to the ground, trailing like a broken arm, its fingers splayed to grip the earth. Another tree has snapped near its base, its upper trunk and branches bent to the ground as though the tree is kneeling in supplication. Fallen trunks and limbs litter the floor in various stages of decomposition, some so covered with moss that they are virtually indistinguishable from the green of the woodland floor. Some are reaching the end of their cycle of absorption into their surroundings and crumble to little more than dust beneath my boot. The moss is like a smooth continuous emerald carpet, but closer inspection reveals a network of delicate fronds, whose mass formation gives a lusciously soft, springy layer, a layer that smoothes sharp edges and jagged tears, that hides gaping wounds and imperfections from the casual glance.