After a while though they settle into the routine of walk, stop, Mum vanishes into bushes and then popping out and starting the walk again. Soon they spend my 'bush' time mooching about and having a good sniff at what the wildlife has been doing over night, following tracks that sometimes a delighted Rosy finds leads her to a bird hiding in the long grass that she can flush out in a cacophony of squalks of indignation. Each time I pop out from the bushes my basket is a bit fuller and a little more of natures wonderful bounty is gathered in.
Soon the slow walk loses its appeal and Sophie starts placing sticks behind me as I pick. At first these are just normal sticks, but as time progresses they get larger and larger, as if she thinks the slowness of the walk must be linked to a form of diminishing eyesight for her Mum.