I don't remember going on nature walks as such but we were always out in the open air - even in the winter. We lived on the edge of what was then a country town and after walking about a mile, could be in the country. Breaking up for the 7 week summer holidays was marvellous - the holiday seemed to be without end. We used mainly to go to a very large wood that had steep valleys, streams and a deep pit. These provided different environments for different activities. We would climb in and out of the pit, play different games such as cowboys and indians, Robin Hood, the three musketeers, tag games, tracking, damming the stream and panning for gold, and building camps. We used to make swords, Little John staffs, bows and arrows and catapults - no one ever got hurt. In the autumn, local small holders used to take their piglets into the wood to eat the acorns. They were great for rounding up by cowboys. Another play area was the very deep clay pit dug out by the local brick works. This was full of deep clinging yellow mud and my mother was never pleased if I came home muddy as was invariably the case - no washing machines in those days.
We used to pick all the seasonal fruits but for eating on the spot. I can't remember being specifically interested in nature as such, but was always aware of the keen sense of enjoyment engered by my surroundings. I do remember sitting in a tree exchanging cuckoo sounds with a nearby cuckoo - it is interesting to note that I only saw my first cuckoo two years ago!
At the end of the summer, we used to go hop picking, travelling intially by lorry and later by coach to a local farm. I really loved this with the cold September mornings, mist and the sun breaking through. I had to work in the mornings but usually managed to escape in the afternoon. We used to take ferrets to hunt
Rabbits. At one time, we acquired some sulphur used to help dry the hops to try to smoke out some
Rabbits from a large bury under a huge beech tree. The first year we went, there were still horses on the farm. I can remember going into the milking shed and having a fight with the cowman's son squirting milk at each other from a cow's udder.
I shall stop now as I shall soon be crying
. Seriously, I would not wish to change this aspect of my childhood - others maybe.
Colin