I press record and lie down on soft forest floor, resting my head upon the fallen trunk of a young pine tree. As my body sinks, still and heavy into the ground, I feel my senses heighten, lifting skywards to tune with the forest around me. The sweet smell of the pine trees blends with a hint of fresh, salty sea air. Tentsmuir forest is unusual as these pine trees march to the very edge of the expansive Tentsmuir sands that stretch along the eastern seaboard from Leuchars to Tayport - a mighty tryst between the kingdoms of land and sea.
The pines creak and crackle in the wind above my head and a vole appears from it's home in the bark of my pillow, dashing head down along the ground towards my legs before skidding to a halt in suspicion of the new denim build in the neighbourhood. Caution prevails and she makes a swift beeline for home in the pine trunk. It is not long after that a faint shuffling draws my attention (1.15) and I notice a red squirrel, not 15 yards away, making the final preparations to haul a reasonably sizeable (for a squirrel) pinecone up the trunk of a tree. After a few nimble and gravity defying manoeuvres upwards he carries out a final textbook three point turn, shifts into reverse and backs up onto a branch ten feet off the ground where lunch is served. If you listen carefully you can hear the nibbling of his tiny jaws making light work of the pinecone (1.50 onwards). Unfortunately you cannot see the nonchalant gaze he gave me from his branch as if curious to see what stunts I had in store with my lunchbox!