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How we used to read the countryside – using Norfolk’s landscape as a guide

Lisa Ashbury
By Lisa Ashbury

Before weather apps, forecasts and alerts, people learned to read the land itself.

The countryside spoke in signs – subtle, familiar cues that marked the passing of seasons and hinted at what might come next.

You didn’t need a screen to tell you the weather was turning. You watched the sky. You listened for birds. You noticed insects appearing – or not.

Two British 7-spot ladybirds on a dried leaf

Many of us still do this, even if we don’t always realise it.

On a quiet walk along a Norfolk lane, or across open fields beneath a wide sky, those signs are still there. You just have to pause long enough to notice them.

The landscape as a guide

For generations, people understood the countryside through observation and repetition. Patterns mattered. Timing mattered.

The return of certain birds, the sudden appearance of insects, the way mist clung to low ground or how light broke through after rain – these weren’t curiosities. They were information.

You knew when to plant, when to expect rain, when warmer days were on the way – not because you were told, but because the land showed you.

Signs people once watched for

Some of these old countryside cues are still familiar today:

A Common cuckoo (cuculus canorus) at Thursley Common, Surrey, UK

  • The call of the cuckoo, often heard in late spring, marking a shift in the season
  • Ladybirds – or bishy barnabees, as they’re known in Norfolk – appearing in gardens, hedgerows and fields
  • Cuckoo spit foaming on plant stems as insect life surged into activity
  • Rainbows breaking through showery skies, especially when the sun sat low
  • Frost, dew and mist, lingering or lifting to signal changes in temperature and weather

Frost-covered reeds in a hazy mist backlit by the low winter sun on Lopham Fen, Norfolk

These weren’t grand events – they were small, everyday moments. But together, they formed a kind of countryside literacy.

 

What’s changed?

Many of those signs still appear – but not always when we expect them to.

Winters can be wetter and milder. Insects may arrive earlier. Birds alter their timing. The old patterns aren’t gone, but they’re less predictable.

You don’t need data to sense this. Often, it’s felt first – a quiet recognition that something is slightly different from how it used to be.

That’s one of the strengths of noticing the countryside closely. It allows us to understand change not just in statistics, but in lived experience.

A person is standing alone in a dense forest, looking intently at their surroundings. The individual appears focused and contemplative, surrounded by tall trees and the sounds of nature.

 

Why noticing still matters

At CPRE Norfolk, we believe that knowing a place leads to caring for it.

When you notice the small things – a beetle on a leaf, a sudden arc of colour in the sky, a sound that marks the season – you form a relationship with the landscape. And relationships are what underpin long-term stewardship.

The countryside isn’t something separate from us. It’s something we move through, learn from, and pass on – not just in words, but in attention.

A couple with their eyes closed enjoying a peaceful landscape

 

An invitation to look again

The next time you’re out walking, pause for a moment. Look up. Look down. Listen.

The countryside is still speaking – quietly, patiently – just as it always has.

All it asks is that we notice.

 

This is part of our ongoing Discover Our Countryside series, exploring the small signs that connect us to Norfolk’s landscape.

A woman in a red coat walking on a path in the countryside in the rain