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Monday, February 2, 2009

Describe the sights, sound and smells along a deserted country lane

Describe the sights, sound and smells along a deserted country lane

A cool breeze blows into my face. The air is fresh and clear. I hold my fishing gear in my hand as I trudge down the country lane towards my favorite fishing hole.

The lane is a narrow one seldom used by four-wheeled vehicles. It is more like a well-used foot-path but I can see motorcycle tyre marks on the exposed earth. Anyhow at the moment it is all very still except for the sounds of birds singing, insects screeching and mosquitoes buzzing.

The mosquitoes are a real nuisance. I keep having to hit them as they alight on my body to have a feed. There must be hundreds of them. Despite applying insect repellent on my clothes, these tiny hordes of winged blood-suckers still come.

Both sides of the lane are covered with thick undergrowth. Behind the undergrowth is a rubber estate. Further back is the beginning of a virgin jungle. I can hear the distinct sounds of this jungle even from a distance.

A bird takes flight from the bushes as I walk past it. It squawks noisily. I pause a moment to watch it fly up and alight on the branch of a tree. It is a black bird with two long tall feathers trailing along prominently as it flies.

Behind me a hidden magpie-robin breaks into its sweet melodious song. It is always a pleasure to hear a magpie-robin sing. Its song has a refreshing whistle-tone to it. I whistle in reply.

We have a lively whistling exchange for a minute until my lips become tired. Then I admit defeat and leave the magpie-robin to sing on his own.

The smell of country air is very different from city air. There are no vehicle fumes here. The only smell that can be considered a bit unpleasant is the smell of cow-dung. I spy some tell-tale greenish blobs along the lane. I tread carefully past them. Some cows have gone by this lane just a bit before me. The dung is still wet. In fact I can smell those fellows as well close by.

As if in direct response two bleary-eyed individuals appear before me. They took at me waving their tails to chase the flies away. I look at them. They seem harmless, so I walk by. They watch me go as they chew on the grass in their mouths.

Finally I reach my fishing hole. It is about ten meters from the lane. I leave the lane and head towards the pond. Gleefully I put down my fishing gear and prepare to have a pleasant evening there.

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