A morning filled with Blackbirds.
No voice, no song, just the gentle swish of wings as they flit across my path along the tiny lanes as I cycle in early morning.
Mainly males, darting between hedge and verges, one flew up into the low bough of an Oak tree, looking down at me, what was I doing here? Disturbing their peace, interrupting their games?
A female Blackbird flies right across my shadow, lands on a sign that tells me this is a conservation verge, for butterflies and insects.
Ah, maybe that’s why there are so many Blackbirds, feasting on insects?
I watch for a few minutes and then cycle quietly past.
A few minutes later I see a dead Stoat on the tarmac. Still warm and bloodied.
Car fatality perhaps. I have a close inspection of dead Stoat.They are difficult to study in the wild as they are so fast and shy of human contact.Well they might be as their fur is still prized in some countries.
What a neat little animal this is. The fur is beautiful and soft, the teeth are like white razors. I shudder away from this vicious killing machine of small rodents, birds and rabbits. The fur is beautiful and soft, the teeth are like white razors ! I decide to move this creature from the road, placing it on the grassy verge. Corvids and Red Kites will feast on the carcass of this small mustelid; No need for more death by car.
Blackbird song and local church bells…
The sun is getting higher in the sky and the morning heat is ramping up.