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Hobby Thread 2010
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<blockquote data-quote="halftwo" data-source="post: 1815654" data-attributes="member: 45720"><p><strong>Peregrine & Hobby</strong></p><p></p><p>Cold and grey and blowing a half gale; the Little owl still porcupine fish-like on its perch. Out to the north-west brighter weather slowly getting closer; out east folds of sodden clouds creased above the Pennines.</p><p></p><p>Swifts in the wind skimming trees and hurling themselves at flies, Swallows sliding an inch above grass. Suddenly a falcon, an apparition, is over a copse and getting close: it perches not two hundred yards away: Peregrine: juvenile male. (Perhaps the same one as the other day, and the same one that was on the church spire some weeks ago.)</p><p></p><p>After a minute he's off down wind, rising in turns against the dark sky - then transforms into a hunter. He streaks westward gathering speed, finally vanishing distanceward. His speed is impressive. But he's about to be comprehensibly outdone.</p><p></p><p>Further on and the Swifts have found food in the shelter of a copse: a couple of dozen arc around the trees in manic, rapid circles. Then a Hobby is above them, sharp and shapely wings pinched and angled, closing in against the wind, changing height in a rolling traverse as it approaches. A sudden twist and it dives at the base of a tree, loops around a big oak so quickly I thought it was two, then swerves to follow the hedge-line and hugs the earth, inches from the ground.</p><p></p><p>He (I'm sure this diminutive narrow-winged falcon is a male) flick-flacks, back to me, belly to me, along the hedge edge, the wind assisting his acceleration to tremendous speed; he swerves and passes, first left then right, successive trees, without loss of velocity, before looping a third as if attached by a cord, and then just vanishes - too low and unpredictable. </p><p></p><p>I closed my mouth and walked back.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="halftwo, post: 1815654, member: 45720"] [b]Peregrine & Hobby[/b] Cold and grey and blowing a half gale; the Little owl still porcupine fish-like on its perch. Out to the north-west brighter weather slowly getting closer; out east folds of sodden clouds creased above the Pennines. Swifts in the wind skimming trees and hurling themselves at flies, Swallows sliding an inch above grass. Suddenly a falcon, an apparition, is over a copse and getting close: it perches not two hundred yards away: Peregrine: juvenile male. (Perhaps the same one as the other day, and the same one that was on the church spire some weeks ago.) After a minute he's off down wind, rising in turns against the dark sky - then transforms into a hunter. He streaks westward gathering speed, finally vanishing distanceward. His speed is impressive. But he's about to be comprehensibly outdone. Further on and the Swifts have found food in the shelter of a copse: a couple of dozen arc around the trees in manic, rapid circles. Then a Hobby is above them, sharp and shapely wings pinched and angled, closing in against the wind, changing height in a rolling traverse as it approaches. A sudden twist and it dives at the base of a tree, loops around a big oak so quickly I thought it was two, then swerves to follow the hedge-line and hugs the earth, inches from the ground. He (I'm sure this diminutive narrow-winged falcon is a male) flick-flacks, back to me, belly to me, along the hedge edge, the wind assisting his acceleration to tremendous speed; he swerves and passes, first left then right, successive trees, without loss of velocity, before looping a third as if attached by a cord, and then just vanishes - too low and unpredictable. I closed my mouth and walked back. [/QUOTE]
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