Country diary: they look like a crowd of skinheads frowning in long grass

Kirkham Abbey, North Yorkshire: If the residents of these anthills object to me perching on their home like some mammal Godzilla, they don't show it

I wonder if they're aware of the colossal creature approaching. Do they sense its lumbering footfalls? Do the walls tremble, or the avenues and galleries of their metropolis deform perceptibly under its weight? Can they sense its extravagant metabolic heat?

The mounds that pimple this sloping pasture are silent. The sheep were taken off a week or two back, but there's been virtually no rain, so the turf tops remain cropped and dry - they look like a crowd of skinheads frowning into the longer grass around, some with tiaras of speedwell. Each tump is tall enough to escape winter waterlogging and, coincidentally, the perfect height for sitting on. If the residents object to me perching on their home like some mammal Godzilla, they don't show it.