Bless 'im. He does just that, runs, and before my eyes the prettiest sunset unfolds and I do my best to make some pictures. Click, click.
Shame about the shanty-town appearance of my poultry empire...
Moments - perhaps only seconds - later the rosy sky becomes greyer
...and then greyer still as if a cobweb caul has been thrown over the small mountain kingdom.
Shut the hens in. Stand in the dew-wet grass. Breathe in. And out. How still it is up here. How absolutely perfect. I could squeak with delight.
A lone buzzard soars above Badnage Wood - a distant mew then silence. A swallow swoops to catch a last insect. Somewhere over there - way over there - a tractor works on. These short nights of summer make for long working days and silage must be cut.
So glad I caught this evening's sky.