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The Harvest Festival

11/10/2016

 
It was a perfect autumn day. The path to Wattlebury Church was dry, albeit somewhat nobbly with fallen acorns. The sun rose through the mist over the downs like a fiery golden ball, ablaze with expectation. Yes - it was to be a very exciting day! The day of the Harvest Festival!
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The young cockerels and pullets looked excitedly out from their stable as Mum bustled about making sure everyone was ready for the walk into the village.
"We plough the fields and scatter" she trilled as she swept vigorously in no particular direction. Mum was very excited.
​"You know Gordon, Dad and I had that hymn at our Wedding! We got married in the autumn many moons ago and I sang so loudly - it was one of the happiest days of my life!"
​Mum still sings - most of the time actually. Well, if you can call it singing. 
​"And - you'll laugh at this Gordon - our friend Peter Graves was the Vicar!"
I managed to crease up one side of my wattle in acknowledgement.
"I even had autumn leaves on my wedding dress - not real ones obviously - just in the pattern. Although there were a lot of leaves in the Churchyard when we had our photo taken. I'll see if I can find you an old photo...."
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"Enough of this Gordon! Time we set off or we will be late. Can you just finish that tidying over there for me please? Thank you!"
I napped a wayward fly.
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As we walked along the path to Wattlebury with our gifts Mum told us about the Harvest Festival Suppers that she used to go to when she was a young pullet. The local farmers in Ridgewyck would cook and wait on the tables for local villagers. Much ale was consumed by the sound of it - and a merry old time was had by all. The money raised from the  tickets went towards the upkeep of the village hall. What a good idea.
​"Sadly those farmers who dressed in aprons and hats and worked their socks off to make it a night to remember all year are old now Gordon, and the Harvest Suppers haven't been held for many a year." 
​There was a note of sadness in Mum's voice as she thought out loud. I gently brushed her leg with my beak  and together we put our best foot forward towards the Church.
​Sammy Squirrel joined us from his drey, his little arms full of the shiniest, plumpest acorns that you have ever seen. Harvey bounded across our paddock to meet us at the gate - a large Bonio gently resting in his mouth - and little Honey galloped behind with a Salami Chewstick. Fluffy the ewe and her friends appeared out of the mist to join our party and Martha, Farmer Richard's cow waited for the rest of the herd at the top of the field. The Church was going to be full.
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"Keep up please" Mum called to the loitering cockerels who had espied some tasty morsels in the hedgerow.
​We had brought with us an assortment of nibblings that we had saved. A few sunflower seeds and some crusts. One or two Daddy Long-legs and a couple of worms - a little uninspiring-looking now, but they were okay when they were still wiggling.
​Mr Fox could be seen on the far side of the Big Field - fortunately not carrying one of Peter's kin, but a basket of blackberries, which he gently placed down at the Church Gate and then disappeared back into the wood. Robin fluttered overhead as he joined us and we could now hear the Church Bells ringing out over Wattlebury.
​"All of your gifts will go towards the older creatures that are unable to catch as much food for themselves now." Mum told the eager young pullets who had caught up with us as we climbed the path. And as an afterthought added "And there will be gifts for those dear Farmer Friends too."
​And we quietly and respectfully filed through the cool darkness of the Church porch to be met by the most wondrous array of colour and autumn gifts and flowers imaginable! Sheaves of corn, baskets of produce, flowers of every colour - almost too bright to look at - apples by the plenty, fruits and vegetables of all kinds. We put our rather modest gifts by the altar and waited for the service to begin.
​But what was that noise? A gruffing, grunting, scraping noise. And there was Peter Rabbit reversing through the door dragging the biggest cob of maize in his teeth that you have ever seen. With a yank and a tug and a huff and a puff he pulled it all the way up the aisle, until totally exhausted he flopped on the cool stone floor - and we all burst into applause! Well done Pete! Gordon and Sylvia xxx

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    About Us

    Hello! My name is Gordon and I am a Gold Sebright and my best friend is Sylvia. She is a Silver Sebright. We live with our foster parents on a small farm in the country.  We thought that we would put our take on life and what we get up to through the year into a diary for you. All the characters are real and the events are a true record,  interpreted with a modicum of poetic licence. We hope you enjoy it. Love Gordon and Sylvia

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