This last drift goes into the fields to the south of the village. The other two trails started on walks that were laid out, in a way, such as tractor paths that lead straight off the road. This drift, however, started by wandering alongside a neighbour’s house into their backyard and then onto a field of sugar root crop. It was quite interesting to see how my sensory system became much more activated this way. This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that I was walking with my partner and our old dog, cat and kitten. As we wandered onto the field, Lara, the 17-year-old dog, was hesitant to continue, and she loves walks. Also the cat Herbert seemed to be looking around anxiously (though Tobias says she always does this) and even Tigger the kitten started meowing at a certain point. The animals were clearly uncomfortable with this route going into unfamiliar territory. Whether or not they were picking up on my energy or me theirs I’m not sure. Tobias ended up escorting them home while I waited, bathing in the rarity of sunlight, grounding myself in that alien space. It turns out this route ended up being the most ‘adventurous’ and held the most animal sightings- a rabbit and sprinting foxes alongside the usual herds of deer (though these herds were larger than those seen previously).
Of all the senses engaged in these walks taste was rare and smell was absent. It’s true that humans’ sense of smell is not as keen as in many other species, but also we’re largely unaware of scents we do pick up on. (For instance smelling pheromones for mate selection.) But this is also largely due to the season- the landscape is fairly inactive in winter and the snow seems to dampen scent even more so. This was a stark contrast to arriving to the village in summer, when mama’s garden was alive with flowers, the veggie garden was pumping and by autumn many of our walks included the foraging of apples like you’ve never tasted before.