The nights were still frosty, but there was a slight suggestion of warmth in the sun. The farmers had done much of their ploughing, and that was a good thing. It attracted more wildlife into the fields in search of food, and that in turn gave the foxes greater opportunities to hunt. They might well have wondered where all the new birdlife came from as the weather improved, but they didn’t. They were just glad to see it. It was also lambing time on some farms. Stray dogs were savaging ewes, and hooded grey crows were gathering to see if they could pick off any new-born lambs. Whatever temptations Old Sage Brush’s group had in that respect, they knew they had to be extremely careful not to bring the wrath of the sheep farmers down on their heads, and so they continued to avoid the farmers as much as possible. Everywhere rooks were nesting high in the trees while some perched precariously on wires at the sides of the roads. The purpose of their roadside vigil seemed to be the worms that were knocked up to the surface of the grass verges by passing vehicles.
