As I walked out one midsummer's morning

I've used this title before – borrowed from Laurie Lee.

The sun rises at a quarter past four. Most people are still in bed until at least seven thirty. Today, I rose, as I do, early – at quarter past five, having gone to bed shortly after nine yesterday evening. And yet I still missed an hour of daylight!

My recent habit of early starts have one big benefit; they extend the length of summer as I subjectively experience it. The addition of two daylight hours a day every day between the equinoxes is the equivalent of stretching summer out by around one eighth. That sunlight can be converted into boosted levels of melatonin, serotonin and endorphin, which bring about blissful feelings. "Increase the joy in your life by 12% - FREE!"

The early, pre-breakfast walk in the sun need not be long (5,400 paces today, 4,900 yesterday for example) but it is optimal for bringing on that sought-after state of elation. On an empty stomach, the transcendental benefits of extended fasting bring on a gently altered state. Before eight am and it is already hot; my armpits are sweaty. The paths are sandy, the smell of pine-resin is in the air.

The cherry season has begun; I know where the unkept, unfenced, unsprayed orchards are. The cherries are ripening, a few are already ripe for picking. Given that there's no health benefit of eating more than one portion (80g) of a given fruit in any one day, a few handfuls is all I need before turning home for breakfast.

Ripening cherries. Never ask me whose.

Two midsummer garden anecdotes to recount… Yesterday morning, around 11 am, I went out to chuck out some kitchen waste onto the compost heap at the end of the garden. On my way back, I could hear stirrings in the bushes. "Too big for a cat," I thought. I took three paces forward, and saw an adult roe deer crashing through the undergrowth, across the path and into the trees, no more than about ten yards away from me. It was so sudden and over in an instant, there was no chance to whip out the phone to catch it. This is only the second time I've witnessed deer in my garden. 

A deer in a nearby meadow, last week. The same one?

And today, around 10 am, sitting in the kitchen, front door open, I was aware that the cats were uneasy… something was up. Scrapper, Czester, Arcturus, Hipek and Céleste were milling around outside… suddenly there was a loud feline shriek and action – cats running around every which way. Then I caught sight of him, again, it was just a flash – the grey tomcat that had fathered Céleste's kittens. She chased after him, evidently furious with him, up the path to the drive. I left the kitchen and ran out after them. I caught up with Céleste, sitting on the drive. She had seen him off; no sight of him. 

Cause and effect

Some seven or eight years ago, a visitor to my działka left an almost-full packet of cigarettes behind. Since then, these come in handy for recreating holiday qualia memory. This is a rare occurrence; twice a year, but only if the circumstances are right. 

Today, they are exactly right. The sun is shining; it is hot (30°C outside), there's no rush, it's a lazy day. The kitchen smells of fried food (breakfast: smoked salmon, fried bacon-style, with scrambled egg, served on bread fried in olive oil) and coffee. I light a cigarette from the gas stove; no puffing on it! I impale it upon a wire stand, angled upward at 45 degrees, it smoulders away, with a jar-lid underneath to catch the ashes. Eventually, it goes out; the smell, however, lingers. Time, now, to open a bottle of craft lager from the fridge. And PAFF! I am sitting at that brasserie overlooking the beach in Stella-Plage. All that's missing is the sea… Qualia memory, recreated. (I've done this in winter too; lots of snow outside, blue sky, sharp frost, and I'm brought back to an alpine bar, high up in the French Alps.)

A few hours later, I am in the back garden, picking wild strawberries (poziomki). As I get down among the weeds to fish out the tiny fruit, I notice the lingering smell of the cigarette smoke on my shirt. Marvellous! The Perfume of the Past. Instant nostalgia for the klimat of times when most people smoked. 

Incidentally, this year I notice no, like zero, wild strawberries with rodent nibble-marks upon them. Another bonus of cat ownership!

This time nine years ago:
Jeziorki's grey herons
Cygnets up close

This time 11 years ago:
Midsummer's Day in Jeziorki

This time 13 years ago:
Kittens at six weeks

This time 15 years ago:
And the Lord spake unto the tribe of Hipsters

This time 16 years ago:
Exit polls can get it wrong

This time 17 years ago:
In search of good Polish beer
[Situation's much better, thankfully!]

This time 18 years ago:
In the Solstice garden

Lent 2026: day 38 – do animals have souls?

Czester and Scrapper went to the vets today for the snip – a far less invasive operation than what poor Wenusia had to endure. It's eight pm, they've just had their first (small) meal of the day, and they both seem in fine form. Still, I felt guilty that the two boys were being deprived of their sexual potential. Fatherhood is no longer a reason for them to live. Why do cats live? What do they live for? Who do they live for? We keep cats as pets, and it is for our convenience that we get them sterilised. We humans manage their reproduction. Companion animals are cared for, fed and sheltered, but wildlife – hunting and culling excepted – self-regulates, existing as it does at the fringes of human civilisations. Deer, hare, boar, we see them from time to time; their lives are perilous but fully agential. Living in instinct and intuition. And aware of their existence.

Whenever I look into the eyes of any of my cats for any length of time, we end up staring at each other, exchanging slow blinks. We may not know what each of us is thinking, but I am aware that I am looking into the eyes of a conscious creature, just as self-aware as I am. A being that is as central to the universe as I feel that I am.

I absolutely refuse to speculate on the possibility of cross-species reincarnation, for I have never had any experiences that could possibly inform me of such. But I do feel that my cats have that small 'c' consciousness which I possess, and that their feline bodies are indeed containers for consciousness. Or souls.

Our relationship with our pets, is more simple than the complexities of inter-human relationships. The feelings we have for our pets, fondness, love even, expect no reciprocity. The ego doesn't get in the way, no trying to show who's boss. Just acceptance of who we are.

Dogs, having lived in the presence of humans for much longer than cats, have evolved facial muscles that can form expressions to which humans can ascribe emotions. Cats can't do this (yet!), rendering their faces more enigmatic to their human owners. Yet cats' inner experience cannot be denied. That feline mind is forever occupied by something. It is paying attention; it is there in the present.

But does the cat have metacognition – is it aware of being aware? Probably not. I'd posit that metacognition requires a substrate of higher intelligence in parallel with the substrate required for consciousness. But this lack of consciousness of being conscious does not negate the presence of consciousness in animals.

In 2012, the Cambridge Declaration on Consciousness (2012) concluded that many non-human animals, including cats and dogs, possess the neurological substrates necessary for consciousness. This landmark scientific statement challenged the long-held view that consciousness is unique to humans, and has since influenced global animal welfare policies.

Take a strictly Darwinian view of animals and their purpose is solely to survive and reproduce. But spend time getting to know cats and you will see that there's more to them than that. There's a soul in there, and that soul is also on the eternal journey from Zero to One.

Lent 2025: day 38
A Lenten interruption (heart attack)

Lent 2024: day 38
Neither a follower nor a leader be

Lent 2023, day 38
Go with the flow, or swim against the tide

Lent 2022: day 38
When I was a child, I understood as a child

Lent 2021: day 38
Will we ever understand what's inside the atom?

Lent 2020: Day 38
Religion, Society and the Individual

Deer-stalking in the fresh snow

Much less cold last night, with a minimum of -5°C rather than -23°C, but with fresh snow. A light fall continued into the early afternoon. Fresh snow means walking is harder, not having any human footsteps to follow. But I can see animal tracks. Cats and dogs at first, but as I get further away from Jakubowizna pet paws are replaced in the snow by the prints of deer, hare and wild boar.

Carrying on northward towards Grobice, I catch numerous deer darting across the track, out of the wood and into the orchards. Maybe in total eight to ten individuals. Top: two young males, second from top, two older males.

I follow the herd west through the orchards, across another farm track and into the forest beyond. Turning south, between the fallen trees and brush, I can see a couple of individuals moving away from me... I continue stalking the herd, 70-300mm Nikkor zoom affixed...

The herd loops towards Jakubowizna, swinging back east at the end of the forest. I reestablish contact.

Below: two juvenile females cross the firebreak from plantation forest towards the wood on the other side. It's stopped snowing now.

Below: a juvenile male leaps follows on behind. 

I cross the road to follow the path dividing Machcin II from Gaj Żelechowski that heads to Chynów. I have caught hares in my lens a few times here, but today, no sign of them, other than paw prints. Below: more snow starts to fall. Roofs of houses in Gaj Żelechowski across the field.

Below: back home, it looks like the Micra won't be moving anytime soon. Long-range weather forecast shows a slight (+1°C to +2°C) thaw from tomorrow to Saturday before the snows and frosts return until the foreseeable future (18 Feb).

UPDATE 6 February 2026: three more photos (taken in sequence) showing the dash of three deer (two females and one male) across open land between two orchards.

This time two years ago:
Am I a bore? Are you a bore? What is a bore?

This time three years ago:
Town and country in the snow

This time eight years ago:
"Forget about doing 10,000 paces a day!"
[Science now says the more the better.]

This time nine years ago:
Ukraine – fight or flight?

This time 11 years ago:
Room with a railway view

This time 14 years ago:
More than an Iluzjon

This time 15 years ago:
Oldschool photochallenge

This time 16 years ago:
Warsaw's wonderful nooks and crannies

This time 18 years ago:
Viaduct to the airport at ul. Poleczki almost ready

Wetlands in Winter, 2026 edition

Today's already the tenth, the temperature hasn't risen above freezing since New Year's Eve. This morning, my kitchen thermometer said it was -16.9°C. Walking on ice should be totally safe. I set off after breakfast towards Sułkowice.

Before getting to the end of the lane, I could hear the sky full of honking. Looking up I saw an uncountable number of cranes. Such scenes would have been impossible 20 or even 15 years ago; climate change means that many migrating birds have decided to winter in Poland rather than expend energy flying to Africa. Cranes can cope with a few days of snow and ice, but this is not good weather for them right now. They are scouting for open water and fields without snow cover where they can forage for food. The formation was so big, I could not zoom out far enough to get the whole lot in. Some of these cranes are from the wetlands beyond Dąbrowa Duża.

Over the DK50, through Sułkowice, across the railway line, and into the wetlands. This is the Czarna river, dammed by beavers. The Czarna has been at low levels, almost disappearing in stretches over the summer. This winter's snow is good news for central Poland's rivers.

Below: looking across the Czarna, with open water showing. The wetlands are dry; though the river is somehow trickling through, the land is bumpy clumps of reeds and tall grasses. Not like past years, where small islands of vegetation poked out of the ice. On the river itself here, I can see tracks of hare.

Below: further along the Czarna, walking where I can see the tracks of deer or elk. But I exercise caution as I approach another beaver-made dam. I can hear the trickle of flowing water.

On the way home, I pop into the Lewiatan supermarket in Sułkowice. I'm not using the car while the snow lasts (all that salt, corrosion, ice etc). As a result, I'm food-shopping every second day with rucksack rather than doing a big weekly shop in Lidl in Warka. And here's the funny thing. Although individual items are more expensive or much more expensive than in Lidl, my actual expenditure is much lower (like, 40% lower). It seems I'm only buying food I actually need and can carry. Once they've got you in that supermarket, they tempt you with delicious extras! At low, low prices!!

Below: altocumulus undulatus clouds over ulica Ogrodowa, Sułkowice; in winter, they commonly appear ahead of a front or during transitions between air masses. It's a bit warmer (-5.7°C at ten pm), more snow is due overnight and there's no thaw forecast until next Friday.

Back in Jakubowizna. Pawprints in the snow led me south through the fallow field that lies between my lane and the main street running through Jakubowizna, perhaps shedding light on where Wenusia goes on frosty nights – do you see the polytunnels to the left, and the two chimneys? This may be why her fur smells smoky when she pops through my kitchen window in the mornings.

This time six years ago:
Inequality and wealth – the Polish perspective

This time ten years ago:
Work on rail modernisation, Jeziorki

This time 12 years ago:
In which I get started on Twitter
[Happier times, when it wasn't owned by a ****]

This time 13 years ago:
London Underground is 150 years old

This time 14 years ago:
My enemy's enemy is my...?

This time 15 years ago:
Some thoughts upon the Nature of Warfare

This time 16 years ago:
Snow so deep it needs a plough

This time 17 years ago:
A fieldfare in midwinter

Białowieża – more than bison

Let me start with acknowledgements. Thanks to Andy P for suggesting, organising and executing a four-day road trip through eastern Poland with his brother Roman and myself, taking in Białowieża, Przemyśl and Zamość. And thanks to my children for popping over to the działka to look after Wenusia and her kittens (all are doing fine).

Below: this is what Białowieża is associated with – Bison bonasus, in the European Bison Show Reserve (Rezerwat Pokazowy Żubrów). The European bison had been hunted to near-extinction in the early 20th century before being saved here. Bred in captivity and released into the wild, bison are no longer under threat of dying off, with over 2,600 counted, all but 200 of them living free. At this time of year, the bison have shed nearly all of their winter coats.

Below: wolf and I, eye to eye. Canis lupus, from which the dog was domesticated some 14,000 years ago. The current wolf population of Poland is believed to be around 5,000 individuals, with the north-east of Poland seeing the greatest concentration. 

Wending our way by road through the last and the largest remaining part of this immense primeval forest. The puszcza is dense; from the road, you cannot see more than a few metres in.

Below: the memorial to the Polish forestry workers and their families deported into the depth of the USSR in February 1940. This was also the story of my grandfather and his family, including my mother (then aged 12), although they lived 230km south-east of here.

Below: the Soviet repressions against Polish citizens that began in September 1939 continued with the return of the Red Army in 1944, with further waves of deportations.

Below: the former Białowieża Towarowa station (closed to passenger and freight traffic in the 1990s) is now a hotel, where guests can sleep in pre-revolutionary Russian railway carriages. The station building hosts a restaurant.

Lovely atmosphere, approaching that of British heritage railways.

Below: though steam engines no longer move trains around, there is one form of motive power that still moves passengers along these rails – human legs. A draisine powered by up to four cyclists goes up and down the track on three routes (4km, 7km, 14km). Cost depends on distance, up to 200zł. An excellent way of seeing the forest.

Below: biała wieża (white tower) – though not the one after which the town (or more accurately village) of Białowieża was named. Burnt down by the Russians in 1915 and bombed by the Germans in 1939, Białowieża experienced no fewer than nine different national administrations in the 30 years between the outbreak of WW1 and the end of WW2. [Imperial Russia, Imperial Germany, Lithuania, Poland, Bolshevik Russia, Poland, Soviet Union, Nazi Germany, Polish People's Republic.]

A taster trip to Białowieża that has convinced me of the necessity to return for a longer stay (at least two-three whole days), to capture the experience more fully!

This time last year:
TriCity miscellany

This time two years ago:
Footpath between Widok and Chynów station is opened

This time three years ago:
Summertime, and the living is lazy

This time four years ago:
Thoughts occasioned by the picking of fruit

This time six years ago:
First half of 2019 - health in numbers

This time seven years ago:
Key Performance Indicators - health - first half 2018

This time eight years ago:
Three and half years of health and fitness data

This time nine years ago:
First half of 2016 health & fitness in numbers

This time ten years ago:
Venus, Jupiter – auspices

This time 11 years ago:
Down the line from York

This time 12 years ago:
Cider – at last available in Poland

This time 13 years ago:
Despondency on Puławska

This time 14 years ago:
Stalking the stork

This time 16 years ago:
Late-June lightning

Country sky, city sky

Early June, moving along. Shady days. It gets dark now just before nine, but there's not been much sunshine over the past few days.

Below: clouds threaten to dump rain on my walk, heading south from Chynów towards Krężel and Michalczew. Fortunately, it stays dry all the way out (and back by train).

Below: a rare sighting of a Koleje Mazowieckie push-pull loco running light. This is the class of engine (EU47) attached to the double-decker 'accelerated' trains (the ones that stop at only more important stations). These services run on the Radom line on Mondays to Fridays, so seeing an engine on its own on a Sunday is a great surprise.

Below: trackside scene looking from ulica Kolejowa ('Railway Street') towards the orchards south of Widok. Note the flock of woodpigeons on the medium-tension electricity wires.

Below: ulica Kolejowa looking south towards the level crossing on ul. Spokojna. That dot on the asphalt is a distant pheasant.

Below: I spot this hare making its way across the road south of Janów, before it crossed the railway track and disappeared into the Watraszew forest. Before long, the bells of the church in Michalczew start calling the faithful to Mass; several cars pass this way.

And into town. Below: Stalin's gift to the Polish people glowers over Pijana Wiśnia, run by Ukrainians and playing Angolan Kizomba dance music on Fridays. The only drink served is wiśniówka – cherry vodka. A weird concept, but it works (there's three Pijana Wiśnias in Warsaw).

Below: Plac Grzybowski. The sky is beginning to bruise. To the left, the Church of All Saints, where my father was christened in 1923. To the right, the Cosmopolitan Twarda 4 tower.

Below: ulica Grzybowska. Changed beyond all recognition since my father's boyhood. Sky like from a zombie apocalypse.

This time last year:
A vote for Europe

This time three years ago:
Savants, UFOs and psychic abilities

This time four years ago:
A proud moment

This time five years ago
Rail progress - Krężel to Chynów

This time ten years ago:

Aberdeen, dour city

This time 12 years ago:
Fans fly in for the football

This time 14 years ago:
Cara al Sol - part II

This time 15 years ago:
Still struggling with the floodwaters

This time 16 years ago:
European elections - and I buy used D40

The time 17 years ago:
To the Vistula, by bike

This time 18 years ago:
Poppy profusion

Birdland

It's been a year since I downloaded Cornell Labs' Merlin Bird ID software to my phone (thanks for the suggestion Ian S!). Since then, I've been using it to identify bird calls and songs when out and about on my walks. Today, I took the trouble to create a spreadsheet and make a note of the local birdlife that the app has identified. Turns out I have 45 different species of bird within walking distance of my działka. The most common (and also my favourite in terms of its song) is the Eurasian blackbird; the chaffinch, chiffchaff, blackcap and song thrush occupy the rest of the top five places. Rarities include the short-toed treecreeper and the Eurasian green-winged teal, both of whose calls I have only recorded but once over the past year.

Below: a bird that's not present on the British Isles, whose call is easily identified – the hoopoe (Upupa epops, or dudek in Polish). Hoopoes are notable for their crown of feathers which can be raised or lowered at will; they sunbathe by spreading out their wings and tail low against the ground, which can be seen on the lower two photos (taken at extreme range, so poor resolution). Open heathland, forests and orchards are the hoopoe's habitat.

Using this app regularly has given me new insights into the natural habitat of where I live, and allows me to observe birdlife around me. I particularly like the songbirds – not one-note wonders like the hoopoe or woodpigeon, but birds whose richly varied range of notes suggest a lexicon of meanings, syntactically structured to reflect what the singer is experiencing. Here, the Eurasian blackbird comes top, with the song thrush and nightingale thrush coming close. I wonder how long it will be before AI unravels the code.

Below: a juvenile female deer encountered in the forest. We stood like this for a moment or two before she turned round and bounded back in the direction from which she came at top speed.

"Sometimes you find a yearning for the quiet life/The country air and all its joys"

This time two years ago:
De-growth – a personal manifesto

This time two years ago:
Start Late, Finish Late - more on the Speed of Life

This time eight years ago:
Swans' way

This time nine years ago:
Sam Smith, Shepherd Neame and the Routemaster bus

This time 11 years ago:
Rainy night in Jeziorki – no flood this time!

This time 12 years ago:
Wide-angle under Pl. Wilsona

This time 13 years ago:
Ranking a better life

This time 14 years ago:
Questions about our biology and spirituality

This time 15 years ago:
Paysages de Varsovie

This time 16 years ago:
Spring walk, twilight time

Another hunters' pulpit

What a find, what a stroke of fortune! This time a year ago yesterday, I wrote about hunters' pulpits (the wooden platforms from which state-licenced hunters can take pot-shots at local wildlife). Today, by complete accident, I came across one I've not seen before, while walking along the edge of the forest between Dąbrowa Duża and Rososz. Climbing up the wooden stairs, I found that it was unlocked, so I entered. Inside, a (literally) moth-eaten hunter's jacket, a half-empty bottle of mineral water, some chocolate wrappers, and a wooden chair with a cushion. I sat down and surveyed the scene. Instantly, I was in luck BINGO! My Nikkor 70-300mm lens on, shutter set to 1/160th of a second, I zoom right out...

Below: the deer gets closer, before turning away. I set the shutter to 1/320th of a second to freeze the action a bit better. Look at the veins on the back and shoulders!

Below: a second or two earlier, what looks like a pair of juvenile males, the one in the background older than the one in front, racing out of a field of rapeseed and charging onto a freshly ploughed field.

Below: how they looked when I first caught sight of them. Moving slowly. As with yesterday's hare, I happened to be in the right place at the right time.

Left: the pulpit – quite high as pulpits go. This one is in good condition (the wooden posts can rot underground, causing the structures to topple if neglected.)  The hunting season is over; shooting deer after the end of February is prohibited.

Below: the view from the top, looking from left to right, to the north-east, east and south-east.

Managed to get my walk in before the weather turned. All good – 14.5k paces today. It occurred to me as I approached the woods beyond Dąbrowa Duża that the place where I wanted to go today for an hour-long walk is an hour's walk from home. And an hour's walk back.

This time six years ago:
Nowa Wola and Zamienie – Warsaw's unplanned exurbs

This time seven years ago:
Long-term memory, awareness and identity

This time eight years ago:
Language and politics

This time 13 years ago:
Bus crash on Puławska

This time 15 years ago:
The parable of the Iron-Filings Factory

This time 18 years ago:
Got to get ourselves back to the Garden

Days such as this will come back

Seize the day! Up at half past six. A sunny start, expected to cloud over before too long, a Zoom call at 9am, so time for a quick breakfast and an early walk. Assuming I can get my act together, a morning walk is worth two afternoon walks when it comes to setting down those qualia memories. Morning walks are simply more memorable. And they trigger more memories of morning walks in the past. The senses tingle with the optimism of a new day. No danger of dozing.

Below: walking towards the crest of the low hill between Jakubowizna and Grobice, I spot a pair of ears moving towards me, like the masts of a ship beyond the horizon. I freeze. It's a hare. Slowly I raise my camera (with 70-300mm zoom) up to my eye. Because I'm still, the hare does not notice me at first, and continues along the farm track towards me. As its eyes distinguish me from the background, it stops to assess the situation. The wind is in my favour, blowing from the north. The hare turns sideways. It sees me with its right eye to the south; its other eye detects a woman and her rather large dog, approaching the hare from the north. To the west, a chain-link fence. To the east, an unfenced orchard. The hare took the logical course of action and bolted off between the apple trees. For a moment there, I stood eye to eye with the hare.

Below: a few minutes earlier, around half past seven, further south along the same track, orchards to the right. And an impeccably cloudless sky. The glorious sun, unfiltered by clouds, all-powerful in the eastern sky, connecting all things to the cosmic consciousness.

Below: the forest, on the way out... superbly green. The sun's already quite high; sunrise was at quarter to five. I whip out my bird-song app to record the sounds. The forest is alive to the song of blackbird, thrush, blue tit, blackcap, willow warbler, chaffinch and chiffchaff. 

Below the forest on the way home; I have to pick up the pace, make time and get home to prepare for my call. I make it with ten minutes to spare. So – first walk of the day: 7,300 paces.

Call done, office work under control, kitchen chores sorted – time for the second walk, to the Deko Market in Chynów for porridge, bread and cat food. A different walk, through the village rather than forest and fields. Nostalgia, but of a different sort. Below: ulica Słoneczna, looking north. A Stella-Plage vibe.

Below: ul. Wspólna, looking east. America in the 1950s, loud and clear. Just replace the Hondas and Peugeots with Hudsons and Studebakers and I'm there.

Below: repainting the Jesus outside the wooden church on ul. Główna. The hands look a wee bit small if you don't mind me saying.

Approaching home, over the level crossing, I get that sublime feeling – the sun and wind together on my face. The afternoon warmth makes it slightly too hot under two layers, but the wind's blowing from the north-west just hard enough to bring pleasing comfort, and the combination sparks those familiar exomnesia moments from beyond the here and now. Another 7,100 paces walked.

This time last year:
All along the watchtowers
[coincidentally, another close encounter with a hare!]

This time two years ago:
Blossom, sunshine and trains, Chynów

This time three years ago:
A better tomorrow for the soul

This time four years ago:
Blossom time in Jakubowizna - the apples

This time six years ago:

The Ice Saints - right on cue

This time ten years ago:

Then and now: Trafalgar Square (recreating my father's photos)

This time 12 years ago:
Reflection upon the City Car

This time 14 years ago:
Biblical sky

This time 15 years ago:
Travel broadens the spirit

This time 16 years ago:
Welcome the Ice Saints

This time 18 years ago:
On the farm next door