ASTONISHED OF CAMBRIDGESHIRE HERE.
Even in my wildest moments I never expected to be writing a Life On The Farm like this. What is more, I am writing this in a state of total astonishment.
I was having a cup of tea with Lulu at our neighbours'. They have about four acres, four horses and four dogs. This
year they had a fantastic number of swallows – now all well on their way to Africa: I hope. Suddenly we saw familiar wings out of the window – a large sparrowhawk was flying by. How these killers annoy me. It was a female – as with many birds of prey the female is a lot larger than the male. Suddenly, a larger bird of prey was flying parallel to it. I
blinked in disbelief – its 'jizz' was unmistakeable. 'Jizz' in bird-watching terms means the impression given – the outline, the posture, the things that aid instant recognition. The jizz said 'peregrine falcon' – it was close enough to see its distinguishing features with the naked eye – it was a peregrine falcon.
So the bird I had always associated with moorland, mountains and rocky cliffs was flying over my neighbours' stables and across towards one of my grass meadows in lowland Cambridgeshire. Enquiries revealed that peregrines had bred two villages away at a disused cement works. I assumed they'd chosen a site in the cliff face of the chalk quarry – now silent. I was wrong. The birds had chosen the side of the factory building itself – a manmade high-rise rather than a cliff face – oh well, peregrines know best.
Next week: Some peregrine facts – and more astonishment
I was having a cup of tea with Lulu at our neighbours'. They have about four acres, four horses and four dogs. This
year they had a fantastic number of swallows – now all well on their way to Africa: I hope. Suddenly we saw familiar wings out of the window – a large sparrowhawk was flying by. How these killers annoy me. It was a female – as with many birds of prey the female is a lot larger than the male. Suddenly, a larger bird of prey was flying parallel to it. I
blinked in disbelief – its 'jizz' was unmistakeable. 'Jizz' in bird-watching terms means the impression given – the outline, the posture, the things that aid instant recognition. The jizz said 'peregrine falcon' – it was close enough to see its distinguishing features with the naked eye – it was a peregrine falcon.
So the bird I had always associated with moorland, mountains and rocky cliffs was flying over my neighbours' stables and across towards one of my grass meadows in lowland Cambridgeshire. Enquiries revealed that peregrines had bred two villages away at a disused cement works. I assumed they'd chosen a site in the cliff face of the chalk quarry – now silent. I was wrong. The birds had chosen the side of the factory building itself – a manmade high-rise rather than a cliff face – oh well, peregrines know best.
Next week: Some peregrine facts – and more astonishment