halftwo
Wird Batcher
In the sun bathed valley the already cut hay lies sweet and summer smelling between the stone walls, young Starlings stride amongst the fallen stems drying in the hill of the season.
Up and up towards the tops the blinding flash from the reservoir hits the fog bank boiling on the ridge.
Golden plovers already moulting from spangled glory pipe alarms from hummocks - watching over young in the cold mist.
Then the apparition of a Short-eared owl hunting low and silent appears through the thick air and curves at a vole at its tunnel.
Plovers' crescendo as the owl dissolves back into the morning, then silence descends.
The sun begins to lift the curtain and blue begins to break - fog becoming clouds and the day warming.
Out in the vast billowing moors bog cotton like snagged down shifts on the breeze. Curlews' ripple and Meadow pipits parachute. Now the Golden plover display and sing.
A Buzzard hangs on the ridge , ragged in the wind. Miles out a Peregrine shifts its prey and turns towards the blow, gaining height before plummeting to its cliff.
Small heaths flicker and bees hum in the warmth of the day. Skylarks rise into the depths of the bright sky in unending symphonies.
Across the moss green golden moors heat begins to warp the world and echoes of Curlews burble. Swifts slice the wobbling air above the rolling wilds.
Up and up towards the tops the blinding flash from the reservoir hits the fog bank boiling on the ridge.
Golden plovers already moulting from spangled glory pipe alarms from hummocks - watching over young in the cold mist.
Then the apparition of a Short-eared owl hunting low and silent appears through the thick air and curves at a vole at its tunnel.
Plovers' crescendo as the owl dissolves back into the morning, then silence descends.
The sun begins to lift the curtain and blue begins to break - fog becoming clouds and the day warming.
Out in the vast billowing moors bog cotton like snagged down shifts on the breeze. Curlews' ripple and Meadow pipits parachute. Now the Golden plover display and sing.
A Buzzard hangs on the ridge , ragged in the wind. Miles out a Peregrine shifts its prey and turns towards the blow, gaining height before plummeting to its cliff.
Small heaths flicker and bees hum in the warmth of the day. Skylarks rise into the depths of the bright sky in unending symphonies.
Across the moss green golden moors heat begins to warp the world and echoes of Curlews burble. Swifts slice the wobbling air above the rolling wilds.