Early Morning Mist
It is still night when I arrive at the place called “Le Bois mouillé”. A forest that bears its name well. Indeed it rained a lot these last days in the Bourbonnais. The mist brings a mysterious atmosphere to the undergrowth which resounds the songs of its inhabitants. The humid air adds reverberation. We can hear the droplets from the trees, a European nightjar, grey cuckoos answering each other, a white-fronted redstart, hooters, blackbirds, a wren, spotted woodpeckers in the distance, robins, some insects buzzing. Only the return of the rain will force me to leave this phantasmagorical atmosphere.