halftwo
Wird Batcher
Out behind the ridge where the wind pushed the Pied Wagtails and the Meadow Pipits picked and flickered on sheep-cropped turf and Goldfinches bounded down to swaying thistles.
Out on the blowing edge two Ravens launched an attack on a hovering Buzzard, flying on to play in the wind, turning flick-flack and on. Three more joined them to sail the breeze.
Now a Merlin comes head-on, powering upslope over a copse, a missile pointed at you. She closes fast and, alongside, her pale belly shows the dark brown streaks and you can see the colour of her eyes.
She slips past, quickening at the escarpment and heads down, blurring with speed, dipping below the near horizon and is gone.
Time stands still. The sun shines on. Late bright poppies nod.
After a pause two Skylarks take to the safe sky and their calls ripple down the wind.
Down in lower, leafy lands autumn's hand has burnished the trees. A Little Owl hides in a hole in the base of a stone wall.
In the warming woods the whispers of Goldcrests and Treecreepers and of Long-tailed Tits slip gossamer threads of sound from spreading beeches, oaks and sycamores while the piping pips of Nuthatches loudly descant. Nuts crunch underfoot.
Late thermals break and Jackdaws follow flies into the skies, and Buzzards rise to kettle: fifteen together in the blue, cumuli banked behind, rolling up in the distance.
Down by the lake the dragonflies zip across the water like tiny Kingfishers - sparkling blue across the water: Common Hawkers and Migrant Hawkers.
A tiny flock of Redpolls maraud the alders and shy Song Thrushes raid the shadows of the yews.
Two Green Sandpipers call from the far bank and fly out across the dark water, white rumps bright and dark wings flickering.
Out again to sunlit meadows: butterflies sail the last of the sun and Yellowhammers call from an ash. Two Great-spotted Woodpeckers chase around distant beeches.
A toad hops fatly across the path.
A Kestrel's copper-coloured back disappears to an oak, as the sun slides behind the clouds, and a silver sliver of the sickle moon hangs on the wall of the sky.
Out on the blowing edge two Ravens launched an attack on a hovering Buzzard, flying on to play in the wind, turning flick-flack and on. Three more joined them to sail the breeze.
Now a Merlin comes head-on, powering upslope over a copse, a missile pointed at you. She closes fast and, alongside, her pale belly shows the dark brown streaks and you can see the colour of her eyes.
She slips past, quickening at the escarpment and heads down, blurring with speed, dipping below the near horizon and is gone.
Time stands still. The sun shines on. Late bright poppies nod.
After a pause two Skylarks take to the safe sky and their calls ripple down the wind.
Down in lower, leafy lands autumn's hand has burnished the trees. A Little Owl hides in a hole in the base of a stone wall.
In the warming woods the whispers of Goldcrests and Treecreepers and of Long-tailed Tits slip gossamer threads of sound from spreading beeches, oaks and sycamores while the piping pips of Nuthatches loudly descant. Nuts crunch underfoot.
Late thermals break and Jackdaws follow flies into the skies, and Buzzards rise to kettle: fifteen together in the blue, cumuli banked behind, rolling up in the distance.
Down by the lake the dragonflies zip across the water like tiny Kingfishers - sparkling blue across the water: Common Hawkers and Migrant Hawkers.
A tiny flock of Redpolls maraud the alders and shy Song Thrushes raid the shadows of the yews.
Two Green Sandpipers call from the far bank and fly out across the dark water, white rumps bright and dark wings flickering.
Out again to sunlit meadows: butterflies sail the last of the sun and Yellowhammers call from an ash. Two Great-spotted Woodpeckers chase around distant beeches.
A toad hops fatly across the path.
A Kestrel's copper-coloured back disappears to an oak, as the sun slides behind the clouds, and a silver sliver of the sickle moon hangs on the wall of the sky.
