Country diary: A late red grouse chick makes a dash for its mother's wing

Pikestone Fell, Weardale: The year's first great pulse of moorland energy, the upland bird breeding season, is all but overIt's uncomfortably warm on this rare, windless morning and the horizon wobbles in the heat haze. It's uncannily quiet too: the loudest sound is an irritating squeak that comes with every step, from leather chafing in one of my boots.Six weeks ago, when I walked this path, I was accompanied by a cacophony of dive-bombing lapwings, hysterical oystercatchers and circling, scolding curlews, all anxious for the safety of fledglings. They've almost all gone now, after heading back down the Wear Valley, towards the coast. Continue reading...