Raptor watch

Earlier in the month, I attended one of the Trust's training workshops. The first part was online and offered tips on identifying the various raptors we might see in this part of the country. Merlins, kestrels, peregrines, hobbies (in summer), sparrowhawks, goshawks, marsh and hen harriers, buzzards (common and rough legged - with honey buzzards unlikely), red kites, ospreys and maybe white tailed eagles flying over, little owls, tawny owls, barn owls, short and long eared owls and - though not a raptor, but seen in the same kind of places, ravens.

A few days later, we went to Great Fen for some raptor watching. Kites, kestrels and buzzards were there. Beautiful birds and it's great to see them, but we were hoping to see harriers. And, yes, a marsh harrier was quartering a reed bed. A female. Then we saw a barn owl hunting along the bank.

The barn owl had disappeared and I spotted it when it reappeared. The marsh harrier flew over and the two had a chase or scuffle - I'd never seen anything like it! Usually raptors avoid each other as they don't want to risk injury. I wondered if they were scrapping over food - suggesting lean times. Suzy - who'd loaned me her binoculars - thought it was already worrying that the barn owl was out so early.

The presence of harriers is encouraging as they - especially hen harriers - have been historically persecuted. And the 'landscape conservation' project on the Great Fen - it's a vast area and that makes conservation efforts exponentially more valuable, enabling species diversity and encouraging predators like raptors - should support the continued growth of their populations.

Yet everything has this tinge of nostalgia for what is not yet lost.

Still, I had some excitement in store. Just before we called it a day, I knowingly saw my first raven on this trip to the freezing Fens. I was literally shivering and my hands were blue, but that paled into insignificance when we heard the rough barking call and saw a large black shape flap across the road and into the trees.

The same day, I attended, with CC, Sea Wyld's monthly poetry event - Wyld Words, at which the theme was corvids. Synchronicity!

I wrote this.

Muninn

Odin's two ravens were Huginn (memory) and Muninn (thought).

A bark breaks the ice-brittle air.

Peace shatters, bright shards scattering.

That call is wilder than the wind

which sweeps here straight from Siberia.

So they say.

A book of Russian folktales.

The illustrations all black and white.

Remember?

Craggy tree limbs reaching out to clutch a running child?

A wolf - hackles bristling and fierce white slashes as eyes?

And,

always,

the same silhouette for danger -

large, long-fingered wings, greedy talons,

tail

a diamond cast from carbon.

Raven.

I follow her flight to the end.