halftwo
Wird Batcher
Down a different footpath, a touch of autumn in the air; leaves turning, berries ripening.
Rose hips and elderberries, haws and blackberries; signs of seasonal success and succession. Mild enough for a Red Admiral, late enough for a passing Siskin - one calls unseen.
A blur of raptors streak in across grey clouds - coming my way - screams of begging - two Hobbies nose to tail - just yards away. Then, up from very near - another slices up to greet the adult with the prey, snatches it from her like lightning and takes it to trees nearby.
The adult turns and powers up and away - off up high to hunt again, never pausing. Her other offspring continues to call and goes off to the copse opposite.
Bullfinch calls close by, Willow warbler shows in an appropriate willow. Then - right out in the open - just yards away, a Stoat appears. It crosses the path, seemingly doesn't see me, leaps onto a concrete block and runs across - headbutting the upright gently, moves on, leaps down, crosses the path again to jump up on the opposite block where it repeats its action - butting the block before running on.
It disappears under the concrete, into brambly shadows.
A juvenile female Sparrowhawk, hassled by crows, flies a quick loop out from the trees nearby, banded tail disappearing back into cover.
Now an adult male Sparrowhawk flies across the field - below my bank position, reaches the same trees as the other. There is a brief chase as she sees him off - blue and brown along the hedge.
Kestrels circle and hover - juveniles and adults - Buzzards are up hunting, four of each add to the raptor count. Gold, Green and Chaffinches move above the track.
Out over stubble past the duck-crowded pond, Wagtails "chisseking" and, half a kilometre away, the Hobby young's cries ring out clearly. One perches at the very top of the highest tree, the other glides down to the field to settle there.
Returning along the path, distant calls still ring out. A young Great-spotted woodpecker, red capped, shuffles up a trunk. Meadow pipits continue to come in - taking up winter quarters.
Summer slips gently away.
Rose hips and elderberries, haws and blackberries; signs of seasonal success and succession. Mild enough for a Red Admiral, late enough for a passing Siskin - one calls unseen.
A blur of raptors streak in across grey clouds - coming my way - screams of begging - two Hobbies nose to tail - just yards away. Then, up from very near - another slices up to greet the adult with the prey, snatches it from her like lightning and takes it to trees nearby.
The adult turns and powers up and away - off up high to hunt again, never pausing. Her other offspring continues to call and goes off to the copse opposite.
Bullfinch calls close by, Willow warbler shows in an appropriate willow. Then - right out in the open - just yards away, a Stoat appears. It crosses the path, seemingly doesn't see me, leaps onto a concrete block and runs across - headbutting the upright gently, moves on, leaps down, crosses the path again to jump up on the opposite block where it repeats its action - butting the block before running on.
It disappears under the concrete, into brambly shadows.
A juvenile female Sparrowhawk, hassled by crows, flies a quick loop out from the trees nearby, banded tail disappearing back into cover.
Now an adult male Sparrowhawk flies across the field - below my bank position, reaches the same trees as the other. There is a brief chase as she sees him off - blue and brown along the hedge.
Kestrels circle and hover - juveniles and adults - Buzzards are up hunting, four of each add to the raptor count. Gold, Green and Chaffinches move above the track.
Out over stubble past the duck-crowded pond, Wagtails "chisseking" and, half a kilometre away, the Hobby young's cries ring out clearly. One perches at the very top of the highest tree, the other glides down to the field to settle there.
Returning along the path, distant calls still ring out. A young Great-spotted woodpecker, red capped, shuffles up a trunk. Meadow pipits continue to come in - taking up winter quarters.
Summer slips gently away.
