In the world’s mythologies, the earth has almost universally been depicted as female, with the sky as male. It’s easy to see why – the earth’s bounty grows from the soil, fertilised by the rain falling from the sky.

But I said ‘almost’ because, to the ancient Egyptians, it was the other way around – the earth is male and the sky female. There’s a famous image of Geb (the earth god) unmistakably male and tumescent, with the naked image of his sister, Nut, arched above him. 

I find it hard to see how the ancient Egyptians missed the trick on this one. Not only is there the obvious analogy of the female earth being fertilised by the sky’s (*ahem*) fluid, but there’s also the feminine curves of the land. And now we are in Spring, the earth is starting to give birth, and things are growing, evolving, and developing. Just like Geb has ‘risen’.

Winter has now given way to longer days, even if there can still be a noticeable chill, and it becomes easier to go out for a longer walk. Embrace the cold and feel the bones beneath your skin, the blood that runs through your veins and rises like the Spring buds, the sap in the trees, the rising colours. 

North Downs

My Spring starts when I hear the first chiffchaff. This is a bird we have all heard but seldom see because it stays in the branches and is a dull brown colour. That other marker of Spring, the cuckoo, is getting rarer. It’s a bird bigger than you think (about the size of a collared dove) and is often regarded as a sign of Spring. I haven’t heard one so far this season (it’s mid-February as I write this – so I wouldn’t expect to), but I expect to hear one or two. Just the one or two, mind. The lizards and adders have woken. The males get out of bed first. For cold-blooded animals they are well suited to eking out the slightest warmth of the sun. I am pleased to say we get lots on the area of the Downs I go to. Sad to say, it’s not like that everywhere.

Adder

The birdsong has now started. Great spotted woodpeckers can be heard atop the highest point of a tree calling for their favourite food: ‘Chips! Chips! Chips! Chips!’. The song thrushes have been vocal for a while now, repeating their phrases in threes. One sounds to me like they’re saying, ‘Who are ya? Who are ya? Who are ya?’ Between each, I try to quickly reply, ‘you’re a song thrush…you’re a song thrush…you’re a song thrush.’ It keeps me happy – though when I do it, my partner gives me that supportive, yet withering, smile.

Chiffchaff

Lesser celandines have been in flower for the last week or so here. They can appear as early as February, and there’s a large patch of small yellow flowers in a bend in the path where the sun comes straight in.

Lesser celandine

The plants and animals are on the rise again, helping to re-wild the countryside. And in so doing, we start to re-wild ourselves. Noticing this gives you that spark, or frisson, like that feeling you get when you first realise you have a crush on someone. Some like to collect birch sap for either drinking neat, fermenting into wine, or boiling down into syrup. This is usually done around March because that is when the sap in the trees starts to rise, rising with Spring. Be careful if you choose to do this – if done incorrectly, it can cause infection in the tree and lead to its demise. Spring brings all those traditions to our lives and activities. 

Beech bud

It’s more than just coincidence that as the plants and animals grow, so do we – our social lives grow, our interactions grow, and our imagination grows. Winter has passed, and so has that time of solitude and introspection, when we can think and act in silos, speaking to ourselves and our like, rarely making an effort to engage outside ourselves. 

Now Spring is here, let’s look and be outside. Let’s get out with friends, family, and pets. When we throw a ball for our dogs, we are throwing a ball for ourselves – reminding us how we acted as children, how we see that child in our pets, taking pleasure, desiring that childlike enjoyment. Yet we somehow stop ourselves from going after the ball. It comforts and punches you at the same time.

Hare

Hare

So Spring is about a renaissance, a time to explore, to renew. Take the time to walk those routes you haven’t walked for some time, to see how they have changed and what new colours and sounds there are. Yes, there may be a chill, though you’ll soon warm up. Just wander with no direction, like a feather on the breath of God. Listen to that shimmering sound of the goldfinches, the spots of colour from the snowdrops and celandines, the sound of your heavy breathing as you puff and pant up and down the hills. Let your lungs and thighs burn and remind you how so very temporary and mortal you are.

Bluebell woods

Maybe sit around a campfire, sipping on a mug of hot chocolate, watching the fire serenely breathe in oxygen, giving birth to those two twins – comfort and calm. The flames’ light makes everything seem dark. But you soon find yourself seeing more than you’ve ever seen before – the darkness comes alive. The past, present, and future all drag out as we look at the flames. Looking into the fire, we see where we will all end up. It’s the sound of the sea when you’re already in the ocean. Like a kiss that leaves you lost for words. Silent.

Campfire

Stephen Tucker

I started my outdoor career doing Live Action Role Playing – camping out in the woods armed with a foam rubber sword.

Living in a rural location we were always surrounded by nature. During the school Summer holidays our mums would go fruit picking and we’d spend our time on the farm – making camps, exploring, scrumping, and hitching rides on a tractor with the farm hands.

Then along came Ray Mears and we started doing it properly.

Having an arts background I’ve always been interested in the way we look at the world, whether through a camera lens, or with our hearts.

My time is spent walking the chalk tracks on the North Downs, and actually being a living part of the living landscape. That connection between our own being and how we are as much a part of the environment as all we see about us is what informs my take on bushcraft.