An old dog embraces a smart modern trick

High summer has settled over the rough pastures and invitingly shady small woods of High Park. The meadow is waiting to be mown and every breeze sripples over a yellow haze of buttercups. The glorious tumult of May birdsong has subsided into much quieter music, with small sounds and occasional snatches of song when a wren or thrush decides to remember the departed spring.

Sometimes, especially on afternoons when the sun is bright or the heat has gathered and the air turned humid under the cloud, there is something close to silence, broken only by a chirp or two from the trees and by the gentle