Birdsong

I am fond of the Elibank and Traquair forest. It does not, though, grow Douglas Firs. At Glentress they rise tall and tower over you on the car ascent to the Buzzards Nest. They have more of a canopy, the trunk`s bark is gnarled and furrowed. Their loftiness, like Giacometti figures, reaches the heavens and inhabits both earth and air.
Leaving my son with his pack of young mountain-bikers I jaunted  way up to the radio mast and beyond to the northern boundary fence. I beheld receding squares and rectangles of spruce plantation and at their edge a mutely waving windfarm.
Running again I followed the boundary trail and dropped onto "Shane McGowan", a winding, stoney mountain-bike path. Then onto "Leithen Door" and the anticipated shelter: a simple, rough wooden, semi-circular bench under a wooden roof. Facing south. Nestling amongst the trees. Like a Japanese temple along a pilgrimage route.
I sat quietly, sheltered from cold, strong winds. Respite for body and ears. I was also reminded of a bus shelter displaced from bus routes, far removed from accessible roads, engendering in me the sit-down-and-wait impulse. Looking around  I tried to align myself with the contemplative trees; to still myself. But my eyes were darting, looking for red squirrels now.
Enjoying being surrounded yet keen to move again through the green-ness I ran down to where the forest road swept  clockwise around a vast wooded ampitheatre. Last summer, at dusk, I encountered this place for the first time. Plaintive bird songs echoed and flitted across the valley`s sides, like messages. Full of delicate life and hope, it seemed to me. I closed my eyes and let sound describe the view.
This place is called Horsburgh Glen on the maps; a name that evokes nothing of its essence.
Leaving that place I ran on, forgiving the spruce plantations their geometry because framed amongst them slept translucent larches. Pink in this light. Also the firebreaks here wavered down rather than slashing straightly through the Sitka spruce.
Choosing two smooth running stones I continued up and over, into the main glen and back to our rendezvous.