I write as the Easter Full Moon comes into its climax, and, fittingly, at this time of completion, a heavy fire burns out of control on the mountains opposite my home, consuming old bracken and other dying vegetation and covering the skies with grey fog. Whether the fire was started maliciously or not I do not know, but even though it is creating grievous damage, it is serving to prepare the ground for new life.

I live in a tiny village set in the Welsh Cambrian mountains alongside the River Wye. There are 29 homes in all – but there used to be more.

Community values were the subject of my blog yesterday but they were in the context of bird life, mourning, in a sense, the loss of so many of the qualities, beliefs and practices that epitomised the altruism of our forebears, long ago.

The area known as The Valleys in South Wales once, not so long ago, was grey from the extensive coal mining which was the heart of the area and which provided thousands of noisy, dirty jobs and which was the core of the Welsh economy. The hills and valleys of one of the most beautiful countries in the world were grim and – apart from humans – lifeless; nature was all but wiped out and the waters of the River Taff flowed black.

Writing earlier this week about my dilemma over protecting bats during a garage conversion at my home, I failed to mention the swallow factor, which has proved to be the deciding issue!

The increasing prominence given to wildlife stories on mainstream radio and television in the UK, at least, warms my heart, proving as it does the public’s interest in matters of nature.

There was a gathering in my remote Welsh village last night, a cawl evening to celebrate the feast day of St David, patron saint of Wales who lived and taught some fifteen hundred years ago when the Christian church was young.