Flocking Fieldfares and Redwings
31st October 2019
3st Oct 2019
Flocking Feildfares and Redwings
Hedges and fields are full with the chattering of white breasted Fieldfare and Redwings.
There are numerous, noisy but equally elusive flocks along every lane, hill path I follow.
I hear them first, which means I am already too late as they have lifted off from the berry laden tree they were just feasting upon.
As they rise, en masse, they produce their slightly mechanical cry, like the rattling of old cogs, of a well loved belt driven saw, slightly overused, worn, but always reliable.
“Chack, chack, chack” they cry
I want them to settle longer so I can view them them more easily and appreciate their subtle autumnal colours of brown, red and grey, but they are away before I am even fully aware they are here.
Then others, who have remained hidden as I pass, frustratingly lift, clacking and teasing, as they follow their wind-up companions.
This amorphous machine moves on to the next tree. More branches, more berries.
Today the hills are filled with life, even though there is a sense of everything will soon be shutting down.
Look up, beyond the valley hedges and trees and focus on the higher, distant hills, there is already a scattering of snow (early this year, but not unnormal). Winter is coming and the flocking Fieldfare only know this too well. Their cogs whirl into action as there is a job to be done
Flocking Feildfares and Redwings
Hedges and fields are full with the chattering of white breasted Fieldfare and Redwings.
There are numerous, noisy but equally elusive flocks along every lane, hill path I follow.
I hear them first, which means I am already too late as they have lifted off from the berry laden tree they were just feasting upon.
As they rise, en masse, they produce their slightly mechanical cry, like the rattling of old cogs, of a well loved belt driven saw, slightly overused, worn, but always reliable.
“Chack, chack, chack” they cry
I want them to settle longer so I can view them them more easily and appreciate their subtle autumnal colours of brown, red and grey, but they are away before I am even fully aware they are here.
Then others, who have remained hidden as I pass, frustratingly lift, clacking and teasing, as they follow their wind-up companions.
This amorphous machine moves on to the next tree. More branches, more berries.
Today the hills are filled with life, even though there is a sense of everything will soon be shutting down.
Look up, beyond the valley hedges and trees and focus on the higher, distant hills, there is already a scattering of snow (early this year, but not unnormal). Winter is coming and the flocking Fieldfare only know this too well. Their cogs whirl into action as there is a job to be done