This land is an illusion, because it is not stable: it walks.
Or at least, it used to. It is the English steppe - Breckland, the strange, sandy, sprawling loneliness on the Suffolk / Norfolk border. Until relatively recent attempts to stablise it with trees, its inland sand dunes wandered about, sometimes with spectacular consequences. In the 17th century, the village of Santon Downham was almost swallowed up entirely.
These days, most of Breckland is used for forestry or farming or given over to nature conservation. Settlements are few. Amidst the starkness, some of the rarest and oddest creatures in the country lurk. They are not easy to spot, or to photograph - even with a 600mm lens. They are just a summer presence in the heather, huge yellow eyes aflame.
The bizarre stone curlew is a nocturnal wader with a stronghold in Breckland, a fitting celebrity in a landscape so stern. It is also apt that they depend on rabbits to keep the grass short enough to suit their needs. Everything in Breckland revolves around rabbits, which were introduced here in medieval times for warrening. A 600 year old tower to guard against armed rabbit poachers still stands near Thetford.
Much more delicate are flowers such as harebell.
And viper's bugloss, blue pointing to blue. Apparently its name derives from its supposedly snake-like stem markings.
It is easier to understand how the hummingbird hawkmoth was named.
Walking through the Brecks can feel like participating in a light show: damselflies and dragonflies of all hues rush past your shadow. Labyrinth spiders lurk in huge webs in the heather, and deer leave hoofprints in the sand. There's always something watching under the vast Breckland sky.
Juvenile stonechat
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