Rabbits in the Breckland blow
The road revealed in our headlights was narrow with shorn verges. The tyres of the Bedford ‘four-tonner’ droned like an autumn hornet, vibrating on the ridged tarmacadam, caused by decades of military tracked vehicles passing this way.
Our route ahead seemed to seethe and wriggle. I turned to the driver of our lorry, a lance corporal whose name I ashamedly forget due to the passing of 35 years. “Are those rabbits?” I asked incredulously. “Yup, millions of ’em,” he replied. We drove on through the Battle Area back to Bodney Camp.
I returned to Bodney last week with my friend Richard Gould, a Breckland man, born and bred. He began his career on the Hilborough Estate and went on to become headkeeper at Ixworth Thorpe, the last Breck bastion before the clay lands of Suffolk start.
As we drove along
