Obsessions and a Hawk
We all have our little obsessions and if you read this blog often, you'll know what some of mine are. Frog spawn. The position of the Fair Trade coffee in Sainsbury's. The countryside. The seaside, especially a lovely melancholy estuary with the tide out and some oyster-catchers pecking about. Crashing waves on rocks. Lighthouses (stop it, now). Oh yes, and my little flock of sparrows.
Sparrows have become much rarer in the British Isles and I am on a one-woman crusade to rectify this. I told you recently about how, after a lot of listening, I have mastered the basic Sparrow for "she's putting food on the bird table". I do indeed feed them every day. We have sparrow nest-boxes on the garage wall, and plenty of other nesting sites in the ivy and bushes.
So, over the past few years, my sparrow flock has grown considerably, and I'm delighted.
Though it seems that word has got around.
This morning, over the roof of the house next door, I saw a bird-shape that I didn't immediately recognise, silhouetted against the sky. I know most of the common ones but this one was different and after a moment I thought, "Oh, I know why. It's a bird of prey." Quite a big one too. I was most surprised.
Then I went back to filling in my tax form - sighhhhh - and forgot about it temporarily.
Until this afternoon, when I looked out of the window and there, on the lawn, was a bird I just didn't know: brownish. Large thrush? Nope. I could see it but just didn't know what to make of it.
I saw it was eating something and when I finally realised that it was eating with a plucking motion, I worked out what was going on. Bird of prey, eating a much smaller bird. There are feathers all over the lawn now.
So what bird of prey? A bit small for a stray Bald Eagle or Andean Condor. A bit big for a kestrel, perhaps, and it didn't hover when I first saw it, which kestrels tend to do: they are the ones seen at the side of motorways, hovering like crazy.
Fortunately it stayed put whilst I looked it up and, unsurprisingly, I concluded it was a female sparrowhawk. Eating a sparrow. The clue's in the name.
It was rather exciting to see one just outside the window and I don't begrudge it one of my sparrows. But I'll be warning the rest.
Sparrows have become much rarer in the British Isles and I am on a one-woman crusade to rectify this. I told you recently about how, after a lot of listening, I have mastered the basic Sparrow for "she's putting food on the bird table". I do indeed feed them every day. We have sparrow nest-boxes on the garage wall, and plenty of other nesting sites in the ivy and bushes.
So, over the past few years, my sparrow flock has grown considerably, and I'm delighted.
Though it seems that word has got around.
This morning, over the roof of the house next door, I saw a bird-shape that I didn't immediately recognise, silhouetted against the sky. I know most of the common ones but this one was different and after a moment I thought, "Oh, I know why. It's a bird of prey." Quite a big one too. I was most surprised.
Then I went back to filling in my tax form - sighhhhh - and forgot about it temporarily.
Until this afternoon, when I looked out of the window and there, on the lawn, was a bird I just didn't know: brownish. Large thrush? Nope. I could see it but just didn't know what to make of it.
I saw it was eating something and when I finally realised that it was eating with a plucking motion, I worked out what was going on. Bird of prey, eating a much smaller bird. There are feathers all over the lawn now.
So what bird of prey? A bit small for a stray Bald Eagle or Andean Condor. A bit big for a kestrel, perhaps, and it didn't hover when I first saw it, which kestrels tend to do: they are the ones seen at the side of motorways, hovering like crazy.
Fortunately it stayed put whilst I looked it up and, unsurprisingly, I concluded it was a female sparrowhawk. Eating a sparrow. The clue's in the name.
It was rather exciting to see one just outside the window and I don't begrudge it one of my sparrows. But I'll be warning the rest.
posted by Daphne at 4:46 pm
1 Comments:
We get a couple of sparrowhawks in the garden. They swoop into the trees just as the birds have gone in to roost for the night. There's usually a hideous sounding scream and then we know they've got one. Nature at work, I know, but still not nice. I like the sparrowhawks though. More than the birds it kills. Is that an insight into my warped personality I wonder?!
Nover commented on your blog before, 'found' it through The Edge of Nowhere blog a couple of weeks back. Really enjoy reading your tales.
VP x
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