It's the time of year when all the birds are building nests, but this season's "must have" material for nest lining is obviously donkey hair, as these two jackdaws can't get enough of it.  The donkey doesn't look too fed up with the arrangement, although they never look pleased at anything.

This donkey is one of the small herd which wander free on the open Forest near Abbots Well, in our home village of Frogham.  They usually congregate outside the Forester's Arms pub, but the pub is currently closed for refurbishment.  It is due to re-open early in May, and I have every expectation that I will have to shove my way past a crowd of donkeys to get to the bar.

Yesterday's Walking Picnic was a glorious, sunny affair, with the Forest alive with new growth and birdsong.  We not only heard, but also saw, a cuckoo, as well as buzzards, willow warblers, a redstart, peacock and brimstone butterflies and a couple of common lizards.
Back near the car park at Vereley, we were mid-picnic when one of the New Forest ponies came to see if it could scrounge some scraps.  We don't feed the ponies, as it only encourages them to seek out people and cars for food.  Some of the ponies and donkeys near here have learned that standing in the middle of the road, and waiting for a car to stop, can often get them something to eat, so that, far from being scared by cars, they walk into the road when they see you coming.  This one was heavily pregnant, so I was more concerned that we would be delivering a foal, than losing a picnic!

Lots of the standard text books on the New Forest have dire warnings about the danger of getting stuck in one of the numerous bogs, mires and marshes.  Until today, I hadn't really paid them much attention. All that has changed, as I suddenly found myself up to my thighs in mud this morning. 

One problem of finding suitable walks is to try and create a simple circular walk which is not just a procession on forestry gravel tracks, but is also easily walkable.  Another problem is keeping the timing right.  One of my favourite walks does a complete circuit of Ridley Wood, a small but beautiful patch of ancient woodland in the middle of wide open heathland near Burley.  However, it is a bit on the long side for the usual two hour Walking Picnic, so that is why, this morning, I took off over the heather in search of a short cut.  The route is marked as a path on my latest edition of the OS map, and, encouragingly, shows a footbridge to cross the stream at the foot of the valley.  I was closing in on the footbridge, working my way down a slope full of marshy patches, and keeping, more or less, to the main track, when it happened.  I planted my right foot confidently on a smooth layer of light grey sand, and suddenly I was up to the trouser pockets in a bog.  What looked exactly like a washed out sandy stream bed turned out to be a thin crust, under which was a pool of thick oozing mud.  Having dragged myself out, I squelched slowly onto the footbridge, and wondered how that had happened. 

I turned round, walked very carefully back up the slope, and completed the walk, and was nearly dry (but very crusty) an hour later when I got back to the car.  And the lesson is ... short cuts very rarely work out.