The Green Fields Rot

It started with the bees, falling like rain as their tiny bodies spasmed, and a few loud voices, but it ended in silence. Isn't that always the way? The tiny things that go unseen mounting like water behind a dam until one crack lets hell loose upon those who weren't looking hard enough. It started with the bees, yes, but the path between the bees and the silence was so long that no-one could really draw a map of where it all went wrong.

The village bustled, but there was a frenetic undertone that set Flo's teeth on edge. People older and wiser than her hurried to the kirk hall, heads together as they spoke, but when they approached her, or any child, their faces became tight and cold. Silence was no stranger here.

"Think there's another storm coming?" Calum asked, kicking a stray pebbled listlessly,

"Something like that," Flo nodded, "we'll find out, or we won't... I'm going to the back field, you coming?"

"Nah, Blaine Roberts wants to play guns."

"Doesn't he always?" Flo rolled her eyes and hefted her worn bag onto her shoulders, "be careful."

"You too." He threw the words down like something sticky, like he was disgusted by them, and hurried away, but she smiled anyway.

"Little snot," she muttered and let her feet lead the way. Out of the village limits and up along the well worn livestock path that never saw any livestock anymore. Just her, her and her boots and her books. The few people who remained in the poly tunnels didn't turn to watch her pass; they were as used to her as each other. They didn't speak or call out. The silence was like thunder down here.

Up on the hilly back field, though, you could still hear the rustle of some small creature from time to time. It was the sparrow that kept her coming back, though. A sweet, round little thing with speckled feathers and a high, trilling song. Maybe she should have told someone he was up there, Flo thought, but they wouldn't have believed her... or worse they would have tried to catch him.

Better to keep quiet. Better still to sit under the dead oak and listen to him call out. A rapid blast of notes, then silence... that was his pattern. He came close, once, hopping around her, picking up the morsels she tossed out, singing and stopping, tilting his little head to and fro as if to ask her how she came to be up there in his own back garden.

The sun was high when she reached her tree, high and fiery and hot; the summer was bearing down on them like an angry bull, soon it would hammer them into the ground.

"Charlie?" She called out for him, tossing crumbs of bread and berries out, knowing he would come. His song preceeded him. "Looking a little thin there, pal," Flo said, tossing him some red currants, "need to fatten you up."

He trilled, tilting his head before hopping along the haphazard trail she had created.

"I found something," she said casually, as if talking to a friend, and started to dig in her bag, "at the library. A book about birds." She pulled it free and flipped the glossy pages until she found the page she had marked. "You are a tree sparrow-" she turned the book to show him, "and you're native to Scotland. Did you know that?"

Charlie fluttered his wings before pecking at a blueberry with relish.

"Apparently you mostly eat bugs and insects, but you are omnivorous and you are one of the most common birds in the country," Flo smiled and placed the book in her lap. If Charlie was interested, he made no indication, "and I read that you're a social bird, Charlie, so where are your friends? Hmm?" Flor raised her brows and then laughed. "It's ok, I don't have many friends either. Just Calum, and he doesn't count. He has to be my friend, he's my brother. Do you have brothers?"

As if to answer, Charlie cocked his head and gave a series of chirps, a song cut short when he stopped.

"That's the thing, see, you sing funny too Charlie," Flo leaned forward, watching him hop and flutter. "My mum said that when she was little she was woken up by birds singing and it went on and on and on, but you stop."

The book creaked, making a sound suspiciously like a rip as she leaned on it,

"Oh... shoot," Flo lifted it hurriedly, inspecting the pages for damage until a picture caught her eye. 'Nest of the Tree Sparrow' it was labelled, and in it were a clutch of eggs, two birds, just proud as punch, perched on its side as if presenting their hard work, "tree sparrows mate for life," Flo read aloud, "and live in loose colonies, sometimes containing hundreds of individuals. They communicate through song... not together but in... ta-tandem." She sounded the word out. "In a call and response form. When together, the complementing songs and silences of the colony are their life line, helping them to form bonds and alert each other of danger."

Charlie fluttered forward, landing on her as he had done so many times before, and though it was an illusion, she could have sworn he was looking at the sparrows in the book.

"Do you see them, Charlie?" She asked and extended her finger slowly to scratch his tiny head. It had taken weeks to get him to allow her this small touch. "Eh? Do you see them."

He let out a peal of song, brighter, more energetic than the last, then fell silent. Flo raised her head with him this time, cocking it to one side as she strained to hear a response. The wind shook the drying grass of the field for countless minutes.

Nothing.

Charlie seemed to look at her for a moment, then snapped up a last berry before taking flight.

***

The tree sparrow is one of the most common birds living in the UK. Like the house sparrow it is native to Scotland, but smaller and more active. Like so many of our native birds, both the tree sparrow and house sparrow have declined in population by over 70% since the 1970s and are on the UK Red List of Birds of Conservation Concern.

Across the world, wildlife is in decline which is why I'm taking part in the '60 Miles in November' fundraising challenge for WWF. If you can spare time to talk about this campaign or money to donate to this good cause I would be incredibly grateful; additionally, any money earned from this story from publication until donations close at midnight on November 3oth 2024 will be donated to WWF.