A visitor

Dinner is the oven. Our thoughts turn to future meals. The time has come to see how the potatoes look after their two week rest in the dark. 

"What's that?" the Fox cries, pointing towards a tree in the garden. 


I look up. Maybe the woodpecker has returned. But no, it's something a lot bigger.

"How do I know?" I reply. "I haven't got my glasses on." I hurry off, hoping our visitor remains perched in the tree.


He is. "It's the peregrine falcon again," I tell the Fox.

The falcon isn't sitting in the tree like most birds. Instead he seems to be doing a warm-up exercise, stretching his muscular legs this way & that, one at a time, the talons of the other leg firmly grasping the branch.

It suddenly dawns upon me that there isn't many smaller birds around. They usually dine around the same time we do but not tonight. They have more sense then to come out of hiding when this mighty predator is around. 


The Fox goes off to get the camera. He raises it to his eye. The falcon instantly gets camera-shy & flies off.

As we finish eating, the blackbirds start their evening song. It's dark now, but there's safety in that from those sharp hunter's eyes.


I'm glad to see the smaller birds are venturing back to the garden this morning. Blackbirds have chased each other across the patio area. The collared dove has sat on its favourite perch, the trellis. The blue tits have visited the nesting box, their usual nesting place. Peace has returned. 

To the garden at least. I'm not quite so sure about to the house yet. Kev, the builder, is coming back this afternoon. There may even be someone coming with the new airing cupboard door. But first I'm off to the doc's to find out what the bad blood test results are about. Hopefully it's just another drink less lecture. I really don't want more problems.