The Falcon

I looked out of my high office window on a grey day, dry but overcast, with a pewtery sky shaded by clouds the colour of old lead roofs which were blown quickly across by a strong blustery wind. Usually I gaze slightly to the left, to see the gardens with their amorphous mess of trees. This day, however, I looked straight ahead to the roofs opposite, where I saw a bird alight upon a television aerial.

It wasn't obvious what it was, as I missed its flight before it perched. About the size of a thrush but with a different stance, its colours difficult to determine because of the dull light, it rocked back and forth as it struggled to keep its balance as it faced the gusting wind.

I watched as it perched there for a good ten minutes. As it stayed, other birds flew across my field of view so that I was able to compare their colours, size and shape. There was a blackbird in the garden, a couple of starlings upon another aerial and the usual odd pigeons and collared doves. No small birds, though.

And then it flew. It dropped down from the aerial, launching itself across the garden opposite, across ours and our neighbours with a rapid strong beat. A sparrowhawk, buff and umber. I looked down upon its crescent pointed wings forcing their way in acrobatic pursuit of whatever it could see. Then it disappeared from view. I treasured the moment.

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The next morning, exiting briefly into our back garden, I spotted a small flock of sparrows in the ivy and a wren hopping through the witch hazel. Neither the cats nor the falcon has reduced their numbers beyond interest.


:-)