This morning's wander took us back along the cliff path just after
sunrise when the air is cool and clear and views go on for miles. Below
us a slight sea, its waves hardly bothering to break, gives out a sigh
that is mirrored by the wind as it drifts through the trees, it is as if
the world is struggling to wake up.
Jackdaws patrol the cliffs,
all suited and booted in polished black, dressed for dinner rather than
breakfast and making sure that everyone
within earshot knows just how important they are. There is a Raven too
but he doesn't look impressed by the Jackdaws and so watches the
Pigeons: something has upset them, scared them from their perches, and
he looks like he knows more than he is letting on.
Just then the
unmistakeable call of a master preditor rips through the still Autumn
air like a knife, and the reason for the Pigeon's upset is clear. I
think that it is perhaps imposible for a Peregrine to look particularly
happy, but this one looks seriously annoyed!
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