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A Deceit of Lapwing – The Seven Whistlers

Lapwing by R B Talbot Kelly


Suddenly! Some chance movement has been noticed by the nearest Lapwing, and away they go at once as if with the same wings, sweeping overhead, then to the right, then to the left, and then back again, a ‘flickering chequerboard’. Wee-ah-wee! The notes immediately repeated by another - Wee-ah-wee! Finally they settle again ...

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Our Northern (Winter) Thrushes – Redwing and Fieldfare

Fieldfare (Winter Thrush) by A W Seaby

Our Northern (Winter) Thrushes - Redwing and Fieldfare

It’s Autumn: the time of year when the ‘chakking’ calls of Fieldfare in the hedgerows in the frosty early morning, preceded by the ‘seep seep’ night-time calls of migrating Redwing announce the arrival of our Winter Thrushes. They arrive anytime from late September but it’s not until the frosts of October and November that we begin to see them en-mass in the fields and hedgerows.

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By a Brook in Winter

Brook: a snowy stream by Ann Mortimer

By a Brook in Winter - A fresh fall of snow overnight. I walk in a winter landscape: the green fields mantled white; the blackish branches of willow and ash, edged white, starkly outlined, against the morning light; mirrored in the dark brown-grey of the brook; the distant woods a purple haze against the blue-grey snow clouds above. My footsteps the only sound. 

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Birds From My Kitchen Window

Window: In The Country

Birds From My Kitchen Window ... I rush from window - to window - to window, as birds fly quickly from one feeder to another, chased off one by a Magpie, giving way prudently to the Woodpecker as he flies down from the nearby Poplar; ousted from another by a horde of hungry Starling, flying in from the fields ...

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Seasons in My Mind (Haibun)

Haibun: Bullfinch on Snowy Branch

Haibun writing - I’ve come to realise that the core of my writing is akin to the prose poem form of Haibun. Written in the nature tradition. [...] A pair of Bullfinch light up a solitary Ash tree - soft glow light bulbs of carmine red and cinnamon pink. They call softly to each other. Their rumps as white as the snow. [...]

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Under the Snow – of Winter

Winter Wildfowl by Maurice Wilson in collaboration with Rowland Hilder


Carefully parting Willow, Bramble and bronzed Bracken fronds that rustled and crackled in the winter frost I could see my secret lake ... well large pond really - an old disused Flight Pond ... a few Mallard quacked and splashed noisily; a couple of Tufted Duck circled warily in the middle while on the far bank a pair of Teal rested, blending well with the pondside rushes ... a Coot called from somewhere in the reeds - well hidden - shatteringly loud ...

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