Glorious
03rd March 2014
"Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! ....truth is marching on"
Today was glorious. The sun shone all day, there was no wind, the mountain tops gleamed white from freshly lain snow. The valleys were full of bird songs and the crashing of flowing streams, cascading over rocks. Today was glorious!
Over the last week there has been a noticeable change in the air. Though not as glorious as today, there has been a feeling of apprehension - that Spring was around the corner. There have been Buzzards, circling in their whirlpool dance, challenging each other's claim to territory. I have seen all sorts of Finches and Tits zipping around, flitting from one tree branch to another. There have been Great, Marsh, Long-tail, Coal Tits, Green, Gold and Bull Finches. Then up in the Fells, Geese and Swans have been swooping down on the high Lakeland tarns. There is all manner of noises and movements noticed from twitching hedges to the lichen covered stone walls. The earth is awakening.
A particular joy has been the Song Thrushes, making their loud proclamations from the tops of trees. From these lofty platforms they sing out intricate melodies that herald the arrival of her majesty - Spring. And as she arrives she is accompanied by an increasing Avian soundscape.
In parallel to the beginning of life and the excitement of its pursuit, I have also witnessed the daily struggle. A small murmuration of Starlings flew across me, no more than 10m above my head. I turned to follow their flight when, at the corner of my eye, a shadow passed at a frighteningly fast speed. There was a sickening thud, followed by a pitiful scream. One of the Starlings had been swooped upon by a Kestrel. The speed and finality of its attack was as equally amazing as it was shocking.
This story of life had a further act of pathos. As quickly as the Kestrel caught the Starling, bringing it to ground, three Ravens flew at the kestrel. They harried and mobbed the Bird of Prey, forcing it to fly off, without its quarry.
A bird killed, but wasted, a bird used its skills and guile to perform this shocking, but necessary kill, but forced away. I am sure there is a reason and if there is no reason, perhaps that is the reason.
For now, what ever the answer, or not, today was glorious and it is good to be out and about.
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.
Today was glorious. The sun shone all day, there was no wind, the mountain tops gleamed white from freshly lain snow. The valleys were full of bird songs and the crashing of flowing streams, cascading over rocks. Today was glorious!
Over the last week there has been a noticeable change in the air. Though not as glorious as today, there has been a feeling of apprehension - that Spring was around the corner. There have been Buzzards, circling in their whirlpool dance, challenging each other's claim to territory. I have seen all sorts of Finches and Tits zipping around, flitting from one tree branch to another. There have been Great, Marsh, Long-tail, Coal Tits, Green, Gold and Bull Finches. Then up in the Fells, Geese and Swans have been swooping down on the high Lakeland tarns. There is all manner of noises and movements noticed from twitching hedges to the lichen covered stone walls. The earth is awakening.
A particular joy has been the Song Thrushes, making their loud proclamations from the tops of trees. From these lofty platforms they sing out intricate melodies that herald the arrival of her majesty - Spring. And as she arrives she is accompanied by an increasing Avian soundscape.
In parallel to the beginning of life and the excitement of its pursuit, I have also witnessed the daily struggle. A small murmuration of Starlings flew across me, no more than 10m above my head. I turned to follow their flight when, at the corner of my eye, a shadow passed at a frighteningly fast speed. There was a sickening thud, followed by a pitiful scream. One of the Starlings had been swooped upon by a Kestrel. The speed and finality of its attack was as equally amazing as it was shocking.
This story of life had a further act of pathos. As quickly as the Kestrel caught the Starling, bringing it to ground, three Ravens flew at the kestrel. They harried and mobbed the Bird of Prey, forcing it to fly off, without its quarry.
A bird killed, but wasted, a bird used its skills and guile to perform this shocking, but necessary kill, but forced away. I am sure there is a reason and if there is no reason, perhaps that is the reason.
For now, what ever the answer, or not, today was glorious and it is good to be out and about.
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.