Slash and Burn for Running Paw

status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage

Time spent with Cyril the accident-prone sparrowhawk (written about here), reawakened my – admittedly never very dormant – desire to seek volunteer work with a local conservation outfit. But although potentially interesting wildlife-orientated contacts were made thanks to Petronella the pipistrelle (remember her?), repeated offers of an extra pair of hands came to nothing.

And then life, as it has a nasty habit of doing, got in the way anyway – there is nothing like renovations and Bastard French Notaries for obliterating all notions of free time and replacing selfless intentions with stress-induced narcissism.

So when my ex-landlady/friend/neighbour/lady mayoress mentioned that she was in talks to donate a piece of communal land to be used as a rehabilitation centre for injured wildlife, it seemed too fortuitous to be true.

Indeed, bureaucratic cogs in Italy move frustratingly slowly, especially when un-greased by wealthy interested parties – of which conservation attracts far too few. In fact almost a year elapsed before we were summoned to a dinner/talk given by the organisers of the initiative, in which it was at long last confirmed that it would be going ahead.

Which how I came to spend last Sunday in the company of Italian veterinarians and conservationists, up to my elbows in recalcitrant plant life; yanking, snipping, wrenching and sawing for all I was worth in order to reclaim the chosen site from Mother Nature’s tanglesome efforts to do the same.

Man vs Ivy – let the fight commence!

Even Pooch came along to join in the fun, although having expended enormous amounts of energy in digging a large hole, he was inadvertently bonked on the head by a stray branch and had to be whisked off home to the safety of the sofa for the purpose of recovering his spirits.

A blur of rather pointless activity…

A  stroke of good fortune provided us with the most glorious of sunny days to aid  in our endeavours, thus allowing for the incineration of the relentlessly defeated ivy which filled the air with atmospheric winter smells (and my lungs with ashy crud).

Après le slashing, le burning.

Following no less than 5 hour’s work – Ivy is to be admired for its tenacity…

It was time very enjoyably spent, and I find myself quite giddy with excitement at the prospect of putting to good use the years of helping my parents nurse bitterns, buzzards, bats and badgers back to health and subsequent freedom.

Not to be sniffed at either is the rare opportunity to rub shoulders with people who share the same interests and concerns as I do. Circumstance, location, sloth and shyness (yes really) have up until now made such a possibility distant at best, and to have it land so unexpectedly on my doorstep is nothing short of miraculous.

To new beginnings…

So let us raise our glasses to the brand new association Zampa che Corre, to the perseverance of the veterinarians and conservationists, to the generosity and string-pulling of a very special mayoress, all of whose combined efforts have managed to bring it from thought, to deed.

This is Status Viatoris, enjoying the aching muscles and the bleeding scratches that tell of a job well done and a lot more to look forward to besides, in Italy.

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