A familiar footstep

I got up early today and went to the heath for a walk, the wind was fierce and undecided as it whipped the air around me from one way to another. Usually I see many kestrels surveying the land for traces of mice and voles but today I saw none, just a bulky buzzard trying hard to push through the storm. The wild ponies also eluded me today but instead I met beasts. I admire these longhorn cattle, they sit out with their young through the drizzle seemingly content in this ever ...changing world. Their rusted hair blows its self around them like watercolour bleeding into a grey sky. They smell ancient and musky with remarkable horns that throughout time have been admired, worshipped and used by humans. I spend some time just listening for that faintest of sounds that these great and heavy hooves make on this land and watch as tiny tufts of silken headed grasses bend and resurrect under their mighty weight. It makes me think of other sounds that have called this place home in history, especially as I walk back along an old cobbled roman path. They make me feel in touch with my ancestors and I always leave them with a deep sense of knowing, Remembering a footstep and a heartbeat.