The gentle ringtone from the kitchen island announces the arrival of a text on the phone parked there; a grainy image has been posted to us. The small rectangle of blurred photography shows a sparrowhawk sitting on a small square of lawn with something small, feathered and bloody between his talons. The hawk stares up and at the viewer with a surprised expression, as though caught in the act of doing something dodgy.
My son and daughter-in-law had fed the house sparrows outside their small terraced house as usual and then stood with their nine-month-old daughter, watching these chirpy happy ...
There are approximately 837 more words in this article.
To read the rest of this article, please buy this issue, or join the Resurgence Trust. As a member you will receive access to the complete archive of magazines from May 1966.
If you are already a member, please Sign in
