We had to walk across several fields to access the first farm. The light of a summer’s evening was beautiful but darker clouds that would call in the dusk were looming large. Taking a line across the trees to give some cover I was enjoying these moments in what had been a damp summer at home. Little butterflies danced up from the field edges and the heads of the maize were soaked in golden rays.
At that moment I was far away but, when the long rooflines of the fur farm appeared over the maize tops, I was jolted back to the task in hand.