Thursday 27th September 2001, West Yorkshire
I'M ALWAYS on the look out for wildlife in town, but, as we dodge heavy showers and race about on our business, we don't get a chance to see much at all. When I find myself waiting for a short while in a sixth floor city centre office I naturally find myself looking out over the grey cityscape of Wakefield. I sketch the tree-covered mound of Low Hill which rises just beyond the retail parks and railway. There are traces of earthworks on the summit, but there's little in historical records, nothing in fact, to tell us why these defences were built and by whom. A possibility is that an unlicensed castle was built here during the troubled reign (1135-54) of King Stephen.
Closer to the centre only a few trees break the expanse of rooves.
The rain brings out one or two brown slugs on our lawn, as usual.
This tiny moth intrigues me. It flies against the window before sunset with a curious skipping motion, as if it's performing a kind of dance. I can't find anything like it in any of my field guides, but I presume it's from the group known as micromoths, of which there are hundreds if not thousands of species . . .
This day last year