The sounds of walking

The chink of the dog's lead, the shuffle of four excited feet and swift swish of a happy tail.

Our boots clump softly on the pavement as we walk down the quiet main street, turning right we step on to the old cobbled tram lines. Our footsteps now scrunch over the gravelled stones.

The kraaawk kraaawk kra-a-a-a-a-a-awkkkkk cackle of one hen and errrrrrrrr  grumbled by another. 

 A melodic whisper of leaves gently tearing the breeze, while we scrunch scrunch scrunch up the cobbles then the metallic clank as I walk over a cast iron manhole cover.

Birds sing, trilling and warbling in the trees above our heads, the brrrrrrrr of their wings as they flit through the branches. 

The dog, grinning from head to tail, her paws swishing as she runs through the grass, 

she stops, sniffs - quick repetitive snuffs as she catches up with her peemails. 

We turn left, into a little sunken lane, our footsteps lighter, protected from the breeze

we can hear distant bleating, bird song and the wind shushing through the hedge.

And the harsher tinkle of chimes in the neighbouring garden.

Looking up the trees, I watch them as they sway and quietly crackle in the light winds, 

their leaves flutter and rustle while clouds pass over in silent drifts.

The click and rumble when I lift the dog gate, followed by the skittering of dog feet as she shoots through. 

A small crocheted heart proclaiming love and community strength.

 Up the steep path, my ragged breath, the scuff of my boots on the foot worn steps, caws and cackles as crows chatter peaceably in the trees. Another heart, another click of the bolt, a squeak of the hinge. 

Clump clump clump of boots as we go up the steep stone steps. 

Through the farm yard, chickens scratching the ground and contentedly ka..ka..ka..kaaaaa-ing.

Turn left, silently walking on grass. The tinkling of the dog's tag against her lead.

A clink of chain, a groan of old metal as I swing the gate open, 

then the groan and clink as it I close it again.

The constant baritone blather of a ewe as she replies to her bleating lamb across the meadow.

And the even deeper rumble of a cow as she grunts to her sleeping calf. 

 The barely discernible snore of a lamb innocently sleeping in the dappled shade.

Again our clump clump clump of boots on tar as we walk up the lane,

the breeze making the milk church sign swing slightly.

Squeak 

squeak 

squeak.

Distant calls of fellow dog walkers in the field ahead,

their words whipped out of their mouths by the strengthening breeze.

A snatched moment - a dog waiting for the off, every muscle straining to be released,

a quiet word, the sudden rush as her claws dig into the dry ground giving her

the explosive start she delights in.

The quiet roar of the wind against my ears and the tick tick tick of my hair flicking against my hood.

The dry crunch as cows tear at the short grass, 

crunch..crunch..crunch - swallow, crunch..crunch .. crunch.

Down the lane, a solitary distant car - now an unaccustomed noise,

unwanted, disturbing the sounds I want to hear.

A haunting trill from a curlew, echoed by another further down the valley. 

The defiant hiss of a broody goose and her attendant gander

The huff of a happy dog, a distant barking, 

bleating and blathering of sheep

and our ever present footfall,

scrunch, crunch, crunch on the stony track.

An odd chemical scent and sheep lanolin fill the air,

sheep and lambs all calling and churning up the dust,

as they are wormed and checked by a red faced lass.

The snort of a watching beef heifer.

 

Scrunch scrunch

Bird song

Swallow's chitter

Curlew's cry

Mallard's rasping chuck chuck

and our boots, scrunch scrunch

The peep peep hiss of vigilant geese

A lapwing's distinctive pewit pewit pewit call

the roar of the wind against my ears

A tinny crow from a small cockerel

breaks my thoughts, 

his cockadooling setting off another cockerel's reply

The harsh sounds of my coat pushing past a millstone grit post as we slip through the final stile.

Clump clump clump, our boots

now on tar,

slap lap slap slap

as Moss fills her dry mouth

enough water to 'wet her woof'.

Another car, another intrusion to my walk,

chittering swallows above my head,

clump clump, we cross the road,

clump clump, nearly home.

Turn into our lane, click open our gate,

take off the dog's collar with a clack.

Turn on the kettle,

listen for the water boil,

the hissss as the water pours into the mug,

make a brew.

aaaaahhh

Another wonderful walk

filled with so much sound, 

which clears my head

and feeds my soul.