You might not believe it, but if you want to see the British countryside as it should and used to be, you have to cross the Channel. Fergus Collins finds wildlife riches to stir the blood in Normandy. I'M WALKING THROUGH a water meadow of marsh marigolds beside a lily-studded river, and frogs plop into the water at my approach. The bright spring sun has encouraged the butterflies to fly - a brimstone jinks past, then a cloud of blues, which are suddenly scattered by a large fritillary moving too fastto be identified. A hundred metres ahead, a heron struggles into the air and drags itself reluctantly to another fishing spot. There's not a man-made noise to be heard -only cascades of willow warblers' song from clumps of alder and the competing zithers of larks ascending high above the meadow. All it needs is a few strains of Vaughan Williams to complete the vision of a rural English idyll.
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