• Brampton winter: morning hawk

    Boxing Day morning seemed quiet. The whole village appeared to having a lie-in. On days like these the rest of the parish’s residents – at least the wildlife ones – carry on with business as usual. As I walked past the allotments arrowheads of duck and purposeful pigeons travelled in opposite directions. Finches settled in the tops of the sycamore along the edge of the ‘wild bird food’ crops on the old shoreline. Then, I swear I felt the rush of air as a hawk overtook me on the village street. A male sparrowhawk appeared from over my shoulder, dropped to a few inches above the road surface and flew intent and fast along the lane. Intent, no doubt, upon ambushing a finch.

  • A cold morning and a hungry hawk

    The frost lasted well into the morning. As I walked the (well wrapped) whippets along the railway line, a female Sparrowhawk leapt from the hedge. She carried a victim gripped in her talons and made her way to the relative sanctuary of the Blackthorns. We followed slowly and a hundred yards further on, she once again took flight. In that characteristic ground hugging way of theirs, she powered along before turning sharply through a narrow hedge gap and was gone. The colder weather nearly always brings with it closer encounters with predators. Driven by hunger they discard their innate caution and grab every opportunity, no matter how close to us. Further on, a smaller tiercel (male) Sparrowhawk swiftly leaves its vantage point in Bill’s front garden Cherry Tree and heads for the marshes. It is not only the Blue Tits that bird tables attract.

     

  • Out and about on a July morning

    An idyllic early July morning. As we walk out with the dogs along the old railway line, we
    seem to have the world to ourselves – or almost. Ahead, a Barn Owl has its now usual spat with a Sparrowhawk – they briefly lock talons again before the hawk shoots off. Both predators are working hard to support growing offspring. The Sparrowhawk, in particular, seems to be hunting constantly, his presence given away by the twitter of mobbing Swallows. The Swallows’ call instantly draws attention of prey species and us – the birdsong goes quiet until the perceived danger has passed. Near Keeper’s Wood a single Roe doe keeps a close eye on us from 80 yards distance and then slips seemingly unconcerned, back into the trees. The sun is hot but a welcome wind keeps temperatures down.

    We hear news of Golden Orioles, but our wish for a sighting is not answered. This brightly
    coloured continental birds, somewhat resembling large thrushes in size, are known to breed in the UK and we hope that their presence in the area is a good sign. Orioles are supposed to be especially fund of the canopy provided by Poplar trees, so they should feel at home here.

    Barking sounds emanate from the woods. The Roe Deer rut is in full swing or so it
    seems. Yesterday evening their enthusiastic, somewhat primeval barks echoed along the village street as midsummer darkness descended.

  • Marauding hawk

    It was the alarm call of a Partridge that drew my attention. Although as a game species they are prone to raising such alarms, this one was clearly serious. It was flying arrow straight, wings whirring and at about 10 ft in altitude over the Town Field. Slightly above and behind the Partridge was the cause of the furore, a large female Sparrowhawk. The Sparrowhawk was intent on it’s prey and it initially failed to notice that it was itself being pursued by a Carrion Crow. But when it did it veered and climbed leaving the Partridge to fight for another day. Small dramas on a quiet spring morning.

  • Hawk corridor

    Tension spreads by insistent alarm calls from songbirds. It was a morning of small drama along the railway line. The cause of the electric atmosphere was a male Sparrowhawk; the hunter weaves from along the Blackthorn in a hedge-hugging flight alternating between powerful rowing wing beats and fast glides. Every few yards he swings from one side of the hedge to the other. Never more than two feet above it, I felt I could see his cold yellow concentrated eye as he sped along. In fact the hunting pass is over in seconds and the finches had all successfully dived for cover. The panic continues like a corridor ahead of him, whilst in his wake wildlife visibly relaxes and returns to normality.

  • Variety in the village

    One of those mornings in Brampton. Two sightings of birds which were distinctly out of place.  The unmistakeable, whirring shape and arrow like flight of a Kingfisher. It caught me out somewhat – we were walking along the railway line and at least 400 yards away from the river as the bird flew towards Dudwick. A flash of turquoise blue confirmed it’s identity.

    A little further round and the scything wings of the Hobby shot between the Church and Brampton Hall. Travelling at speed at roof height – as when I last saw one in the village back in June – this small falcon almost seems to leave an electrical charge in the air in its
    wake. Such speed leaves you wondering whether you had actually seen it or not.

    Then, as we sat over a cup of coffee upon our return, there was a rush of wings and a cloud of feathers in the garden as a female Sparrowhawk struck a Collared Dove. Both disappeared towards Street Farm at such speed that we were unable to see how this ended.

    Later on, the Roe Doe accompanied by two fauns grazed quietly on the margins of the wheat field. All watched us carefully from what they felt to be a safe distance.

  • Hunting Sparrows

    The Sparrowhawk and I almost collided opposite the Village Hall. He was intent on his prey and I was walking along the Street in a minding-my-own-business sort of way. The flight path of a hunting Sparrowhawk is a contour hugging race which is based upon hit and run instincts. This time he failed, after narrowly missing me and he disappeared with equal pace through the Bowery garden. I say he because it was clearly a tiercel – the male is much smaller than the female – and is more likely to be after the village Sparrows than his mate.

    Yesterday evening I spotted a pair of Sparrowhawks emerging and soaring out of the Keeper’s Wood in a sort of nuptial display – perhaps I met one of the pair again this morning.

  • Winter kill

    A female Sparrowhawk (known by falconers as a ”Spar”) has taken up residency in the cutting. She has been there for several days. Presumably because her favoured prey species, various finches, are gathered along the berry- rich thickets which predominate along this stretch.

    I say female because of its size, the male (or” Musket”) would be considerably smaller. This morning she effortlessly shook off the unwanted attentions of a mobbing Carrion crow before flashing through the hedgeline and disappearing. Yesterday she was glimpsed as she shot away with a rapid climbing flight from a perch on a fencepost. The day before she had left the clear signs of one of her victims in the footpath – a trademark circle of blood and feathers and a visible clawed footprint.

  • Clear morning and a Sparrowhawk – 24th October

    A morning of clarity – the air fresh and the tree lined horizon without a hint of haze to interrupt the colour. The northerly wind of the early morning had seemed to polish the atmosphere. The Bure was relatively quiet, with very little activity along the river. Susan and Sarah appeared in the distance tending a horse a pasture.

    The only bird noise being the circus clown-like honk of Egyptian Geese, a sound which does not fit into the soft mix of a river valley morning.

    A squelching approach to the footbridge over the Mermaid River drew the sudden appearance of a Sparrowhawk. Bursting from a riverside thorn, she carried the deadweight of a recent victim. The unidentifiable lifeless grey bundle held tight and the strain of flight showing in her splayed wind feathers. Not too heavy to fly some distance, disappearing through the Oak trees to the Pightle.

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