Dining al fresco

This rather magnificent bird and its partner is occasionally seen in our garden and one day it decided to perch in the wood pile while watching the smaller birds on the nearby feeder.

This prompted the following poem

Dining al Fresco

His feathers meld into the

colours of drying ash, birch, beech.

He sits motionless waiting,

black eyes ringed with amber

stare unblinking towards the feeder.

Shifting a little his head turns,

scimitar beak remains closed,

cold calculating eyes now turn to me.

Our feeder is his take away

but goldfinches and blue-tits stay

in nearby trees won’t fly away.

 They wait  as a feeder full of  seeds

means their meal is certain.

As I turn the hawk flies off,

 a flurry of gold, black and blue descends

 knowing they’re safe – for now.

Yesterday evening, we heard something crash into the living room window. On investigation, my husband found a female sparrowhawk up-ended in a rose bush, trapped. Not the best place for a crash landing!. Fortunately, he was able to rescue it and, after a few moments, release it unharmed. It was quite a privilege to see it at close quarters – even closer than when it was perched in the wood store.

With all that is going on in the world just now – and it isn’t going to improve – we have to cherish our connections with the natural world. With the animals and birds , in the woodlands, mountains and gardens we can find a peace that can not be found in the world of politics and economics.


Author: annedunford

Now fulfilling my ten year old self's ambition to become a writer - it's taken many years and a long,long winding road to get here! After a lifetime spent teaching, making miniature ceramics, returning to teaching and training, I am now indulging in a lifelong ambition to write!

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