I think that this is probably the best in the series, in some ways. Moving, too is the author's evident and wholly understandable loathing of the noise, destruction and pollution in the modern world - so it's satisfying that the subject of this story can return to his own time, in the 12th century English landscape, with it's abundant wild life and great forests. Makes me think of HS2, and the sort of people who would happily destroy what remains of our ancient woodlands to save a few minutes of their time. What a pity that the creatures who inhabit the last of these quiet, green places have no voice, and precious few defenders. We're nothing but Vandals and Philistines, despite the efforts of the few to save what is left. Read this, and weep for what our once beautiful land has become, and I'll gaze out of my window in Cornwall, and curse the morons who allowed the building of a solar 'farm' (industrial estate) between my house and a neighbouring village. And that village, to add insult to injury, is lit up at night by hundreds of street lights, thus destroying my night sky.
Lucy Boston, you are no longer with us, but your books remain to remind us of what we have lost.