Praise be that the conservationists were not around or even dreamed of in the days when Blacka was rescued from its life sentence as a grouse moor. The years since then spared hundreds of beautiful trees that now grace the whole area giving delight to the eye in autumn. You never see a conservationist whether from wildlife trust or other bureaucracy in the early morning. They are all heading for their desks and their darling paperwork. If they were here on sunny October mornings they might see something that broke their resolve to oil their chain saws ready for the annual brutality festival. Which of the trees here will survive to see another spring and which will be left as a severed limb?
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