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Message: <blockquote data-quote="halftwo" data-source="post: 1685569" data-attributes="member: 45720">White & GreysClear air right to the hills, and blue above. Distant Pennine hills a virgin white bank curving a shelter around the Cheshire plains. Fresh snow in morning light, the sun just managing to stay afloat above.   Along low light, in from the east, a Kestrel skims up high, putting the Lapwing flock up from wheat: they circle in pied glory and begin to re-settle.Under the thick and square-topped hedge two Grey partridge emerge, then others, as if forming from the fawn earth itself: silently, suddenly, slowly, simply there. They become aware of me, begin to step and trot in one direction, still picking at seed as they move off. A dozen in all, away to the next hedge to melt back to the earth and the land.The Little owl watches, fierce eyes under frosty brows, the rest oak-coloured and branch-like. A Sparrowhawk skims the field beyond to shake invisible Meadow pipits from pipit-coloured stubble. Before she can hunt the Crows are on her tail. Pipits spiral back to earth to disappear again.</blockquote>