There are days, drizzle-wet, windy and cold days, when you think that nature will be dormant, sleepy, almost hibernating. But of
course nature is always acting out its wonderful and mysterious performances.
Like a drama that never ceases to amaze, scenarios are acted out all the time,
both night and day. I was recently witness to one such occurrence. Whilst balancing precariously up a step ladder, pruning saw in hand up
against some very tall and springy leylandii, my attention was drawn to a
flapping sound down below, some five meters away on the pavement. There lay a
pigeon, pinned expertly to the ground by a glaring male peregrine falcon. The
pigeon lay motionless under its attacker, a few downy grey and white feathers
drifted downwards like large snow flakes. As I stared spellbound at the falcon
his fierce eyes soon alighted on me as if suddenly becoming aware of my
presence. For a few precious seconds two worlds seemed to collide, the
semi-ordered world of the human and the ancient untamed world of the natural
hunter.
But soon the
show was over. The peregrine decided to release its grip and flew at great
speed over the nearby fields. The pigeon to my astonishment rose to its feet
and began to shuffle round in a tight circle as if trying to regain its
bearing. Then, suddenly, as if regaining its senses it just flew away over the
garden towards a stand of beech trees. Putting this episode in perspective, if
I had been plucked from my ladder by a great bird of prey and pinned to the
ground, I very much doubt after my release I would have continued my pruning!
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