The Beast of Exmoor

Bright eyes glisten on the road,
A truck drives past with a heavy load,
The wheels just miss the creatures paws,
But there's nothing left of its claws.

Later that night when it's out on a hunt,
It meets a hind, a small young runt,
Normally this hind would be a tasty meal,
But it slipped out of its paws like an eel.

So that night it went home to its lair,
With no food for it and its cubs to share,
They went hungry without any meat,
For them and their mother to eat.
                                                              

River Secret

The otters line the stream,
Like a never ending sunbeam,
They play around and splash,
But when a human approaches they dash.

In the morning they are rarely seen,
For on humans they are not keen,
They hide away in their holts,
Until dusk when they undo their door bolts.
                                                              

Night

The owls will hoot,
But the guns will not shoot.

The foxes will stalk,
But the humans will not walk.

The field mice will scurry,
But the badger will not worry.

The night has been reborn again.
                                                              

Exmoor Joy

The heather holds calves, hidden from the eye,
Unknown to people, strangers passing by.
But when the mother returns,
They rise up from the ferns.

As Exmoor ponies gather with foals by their side,
The sun warms their body as it stretches far and wide.
Foals stay close to their warm, safe mothers,
As they jump around, playing with their brothers.

This is the joy that Exmoor brings,
From the great stag grunting,
To the first bird that sings.