We did an hour’s filming at day break with me explaining a little about woodland ecology, showing a few plants, insects and more signs of birds and mammals. Alan was a real enthusiast and he admitted he’d looked at what we’d shot the night before, he reckoned we needed a bit more. I needed a shower and some breakfast, not necessarily in that order. Heading back to Bristol, we stopped at the motorway services and had a quick bite to eat, part of me wished we waited, the food is poor quality and expensive–however, it met a need.

We arranged to meet at six that evening, and we drove home. I was in the shower half an hour later and it felt amazing, washing away the dirt of the previous twenty four or so hours. Rejuvenated, I ignored the ansafone’s flashing light, I knew who it would be, and went off to town. I needed some more trousers and a new shirt, the others might not dry in time.

I eventually dealt with Erin’s phone call, she was quite put out by my assertiveness, and surprised that we had almost finished the filming. I made myself some lunch, put my wet laundry in the tumble drier and read through my script. I was pleased to discover I’d covered most of the points I’d originally described in the script, although I would need to hear what I’d said before I was completely sure about it.

I organised my evening meal and while it was cooking, I made up a picnic hamper and some flasks of coffee and additional soft drinks. I loaded it in the car, ate my meal and changed into the same clothes I’d worn yesterday. I packed the new trousers and shirt I’d bought earlier in case I needed them.

I was late getting to the forest, the traffic was abysmal. Somehow the other two had made it and were setting up the cameras when I drove in to the parking area. “Ah, the star of our show,” said Alan, as I alighted from the car.

“Oh don’t, the traffic is absolutely awful. Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, we had fish and chips on the way.”

“Oh, okay. So what do you want to do?”

“Get some evening shots, the light is quite interesting. What could you talk to us about?”

“Well the dusk is a form of transition from daylight to darkness and there are some creatures which are well adapted to it, as well as day creatures and night ones. It’s almost like the end of the day shift and the start of the night one, with bats and owls and moths replacing most songbirds and day time mammals and insects.”

“Talk about that and show us a few things.”

“Okay,” I walked back towards the area we’d filmed earlier and did my stuff adding a link about how the forest was preparing itself for the night shift proper.

Some five hours later, we had just filmed the dormouse again with a remote camera–one of Des’ toys. It was operated from a computer and we were able to place it close to where the animal had nested during the day. I think we got some good shots from it. Darren was removing it from the bushes when he decided he didn’t like tawny owls.

To be fair, I think I might have agreed with him had it happened to me. He was rustling away removing the camera, when the owl flew at him. It knocked off his baseball cap and actually scratched his scalp. Then it flew at him again. I stood helplessly and watched, Alan actually filmed it.

The young man screamed and yelped, then jumping out of the bush ran off into the darkness. I knew there was a stream near by, I wasn’t sure if Darren did. I grabbed a torch and using the night image intensifier, I was already wearing, I ran after him.

It was difficult to work out which way he’d run pursued by the owl, something which had completely surprised me. I’d spent hundreds of hours in woodland and never seen anything like it. As I ran towards the noises I thought I could hear, I fell over a badger which trundled out from some bushes by the side of the path. It squealed like a giant guinea pig and I shouted just before I hit the ground. Thankfully, neither I nor the equipment was damaged. I’d just managed to get up when I heard a shriek and then a scream.

I headed towards it, calling Darren’s name. He simply called back, ‘help.’ I followed the path and sure enough he was ten foot down a muddy bank, lying in a stream.

As everyone does in such circumstances, I asked him the stupidest question imaginable. “Are you all right?”

“I hurt my ankle.”

“Is it broken?”

“I don’t know. It hurts.”

“Can you move it?” I asked further inane questions. It should have been obvious to a blind man, he couldn’t move otherwise he wouldn’t be lying in a stream.

“Okay, wait there,” (where was he going to go?) “I’m coming round to you, it’ll take me a few minutes.

“ ‘Urry up, I’m freezin’.”

“Okay,” I followed the bank along, and found an easier descent, then splashed my way across the stream and up the other bank. Thankfully, with his help, I managed to heave him out of the stream and up onto the bank. Then we began the perilous return trip.

What had been five minutes trot turned into half an hour’s slog, with Darren limping while holding onto me. He was soaked and I was getting quite wet from his close proximity, I was also feeling cold where I’d got wet.

Back at the cars, we wrapped him in a blanket and I gave him some hot coffee to drink. I examined his ankle, which I considered had become a bit sprained. It meant if we removed his boots we wouldn’t get them back on as it would swell like crazy.

I did toy with the idea of loaning him my new trousers and shirt but decided they’d be too small, he was quite a bit bigger than I was. He thanked me for helping him, then Alan agreed to drive him home. I was quite pleased he wasn’t sitting in my car, the mud was quite smelly. I packed up my stuff and Des’ equipment and drove home. I considered that Darren was quite lucky, he could have fallen much heavier into the stream and really hurt himself. It was two in the morning and my bed was calling me, but not before I’d had a shower.

I got home about three and had showered and made myself a drink by four. My clothes were in the washing machine being churned in soapy water. I listened to a call from Simon on the ansafone, ‘looking forward to the weekend.’ I hadn’t told him of the change of plan; another thing to do tomorrow.

I would call Alan tomorrow and see how the filming went. I know he would have to re-shoot some bits, it was almost inevitable. I also wondered if we should include my clip from Youtube as a means of entertaining the populace.

I got to bed at four thirty and was asleep by five. I slept until ten, then managed to crawl out to send Simon a text:

’Chnge o plan re wkend.
Meet me at T’s.
Lol, C xxx.’

Then after breakfast and a little wash, I called Alan. He must have been in bed as I got his ansafone. I left a message.

There wasn’t much else I could do. So I made some bread, or filled the machine and turned it on–it had a very low threshold, so I just stroked it a few times!–while it did its thing, I switched on the computer and dealt with some emails. I was still being asked to verify records of all sorts of strange animals, including a lynx near Budleigh Salterton–which had neither short tail nor pointed ears in the photo and was obviously a big domestic or feral moggie; and the black beast of Bodmin, which looked remarkably like a labrador. Still it made me laugh a bit. Then I saw a picture and description of what looked like Eliomys quercinus or garden dormouse, probably an escape or a hoax. It certainly got my heart beating faster, as it occurs in much of Southern Europe but not the UK.