When you are showing people your local patch, you want the place to perform. Especially if you happen to be managing the aforementioned patch. And even more especially if the people are not really wildlifers. Something esoteric and subtle won’t really cut it. You want to show them something amazing…
First there was a kestrel. Then a buzzard flew beneath it. And then a marsh harrier — a bird, as I told them, that had went extinct in this country in the 19th century, recovered and then in the 20th century was reduced to a single pair – entered the arena. I – and the birds – had their attention.
And it began. The kestrel vanished, but the buzzard, cruising on in that nonchalant buzzardy way, found itself under attack. The marsh harrier, presumably protecting a nest, a female and some eggs, began to dive-bomb the buzzard. Height is your edge in all forms of aerial combat: both birds knew that better than any spitfire pilot.
Again and again the harrier attacked. A second buzzard appeared: they too had a nest, in the trees not far away. But undaunted, the harrier continued to attack both, plunging and immediately, adroitly regaining the height he had lost. The buzzards were driven back. Victory.
But only a temporary one. One of the buzzards came back, thinking the coast was clear. Not with this harrier: it came wheeling back in a long, hard-flown semi-circle to launch a full attack once again, and the combat continued for another ten minutes across the coliseum of the sky until, at last, out-turned, out-manoeuvred and out-flown entirely, the buzzard retreated. And then –
And then another marsh harrier appeared, another male, another bird with a nest and a feeding territory to protect: perhaps the combat had carried the first male too far over the adjoining bit of hunting estate. The two males – each one silver, sable and chestnut – continued their combat until the demarcation question had been utterly settled in a great feat of wingmanship. What, as the first harrier must have said as he returned to his nest, a morning. Meanwhile my guests went back to Highbury Fields with new ideas of life’s possibilities.
Just wonderful! The way you write it and the combat itself.How marvellous to have witnessed this!
It was one of those truly special moments.
Wonderful! Thank you for sharing,Simon. We live in Surrey and get buzzards and red kites circling. The local crows give the kites merry hell, often one crow on its own. You’re obviously doing a great job with your patch.
Sometimes I wander if the birds of prey don’t enjoy out turning the odd crow.
Just wow! What a wonderful performance that must have been.
It was as if they’d rehearsed it for months.
What an excellent picture you paint. I have a little patch but only seem to manage spider webs for visitors.
When the dew falls, you can’t beat a gossamer morning.
A lovely piece, Simon. Overlooking the Avon Gorge, as we do, an area you know well, we often see interesting skirmishes. The gorge now provides a home for peregrines, sparrow hawks, buzzards, crows, jackdaws and most recent of all, ravens. Quite a treat to see them in action. The downside, up to a point, is that some of them are getting pretty good at taking the feed put out for the small birds. Better than eating them I suppose!
It’s a fierce world out there, Bob. I envy your daily peregrines.
An amazing ‘video’ you have created there, Simon. I know about Highbury, I watched Everton Football Club some years ago, when Arsenal played there, but Highbury Fields threw me so I looked it up and am amazed that you seem to be talking about a location in Islington! Marsh Harriers in Islington!!
No, no, no! Towny friends in Islington. Marsh harriers in Norfolk. Apologies for confusion!
Never tire of watching birds of prey doing what they do best. We see buzzards daily but red kites have made it out of Wales and into our little town in Shropshire and there are peregrines along Wenlock Edge so I may get a peregrine, buzzard, kite fly over one day.
Keep watching the sky. There’s always a chance of something special.