The old woods are slowly dying, recent changes in weather have laid waste to so many irreplaceable ancient trees, other trees are having their bark stripped by hungry ponies whose population has increased in the pursuit of profit and few new saplings rise to take their place as an out of control deer population sees them as a tasty treat. I know everything changes. I don't see the forest the Canadians and Portuguese saw in the First World War, whilst they didn't see the forest the admiralty timber growers of the 18th Century saw, nor they the Royal hunting forest of William the Bastard and he not the wild wood of the prehistoric inhabitants . Nothing stays the same. I know that, though still lament the passing of the forest I know and love.