We have a choice here between the carefully-managed Sandringham woods, of mostly pine trees, with squirrels, jays, woodpeckers, and other wildlife, and of course the lesser-spotted tourist. The latter are in abundance at this time of year, usually in packs with their little ones and their dogs, and may be seen in all quarters of the forest. They can be heard too as their children shriek in delight or cry with tiredness, or you can hear anguished cries of dog owners as their beloved pets go tearing off into the bracken not heeding any commands.
On a more cautious note, there are adders and grass snakes at Sandringham, and people and dogs have been bitten. Furthermore in past years there have been accounts of dogs suffering a strange illness after a walk in the Sandringham woods, although we have not heard of anything so far this year. All of which means that we give Sandringham a wide berth until things quieten down a bit.
No for us, a different venue, the forest nearer to home. This is a forest of broadleaf trees, of winding paths, of quiet, not really discovered by the tourists - yet. Here the forest stretches towards the coast, and where the trees end, there is a view to the sea two miles or so away across golden fields. At this point, believe it or not, there are the remains of a lighthouse, for the sea once came in very close to here. In the 1953 floods the sea came much further, almost right into the village. There are also the ruins of a Roman fort on the Hill. It's surrounded by trees now, and very difficult to find if you do not know where it is, but when it was built it too would have had a view out to the sea.
Molly knew it was there but it did not appear bothered. It looks like it had a pigeon for lunch - and feathers on the ground further along the path tell the tale too.
Truth to tell, if it had not been for Molly, we would not have seen it.