Saturday, December 10, 2011
The woods are alive with the sound of shooting
At least they were in Combe, West Berkshire today. It was pretty cold up at the Gibbet, with an icy breeze that stung the face; but there was plenty of sunshine to make up for it.
In the woods, we saw a party of goldcrests and two marsh tits, and heard the calls of bullfinch and willow tit. There were several fusillades of shots ahead of us; then the noise ceased and several vehicles came lurching along the track, one with several dead pheasants strapped to the bonnet. I could see a dark shape high in a birch tree and wondered if it was a raven. But a look through the bins showed a very still, very wary (possibly traumatised!) pheasant.
There wasn't much else of note in the way of birds until the final stretch along the top of Walbury Hill. With the sun near the horizon and the sky streaked with purple and gold, a flock of twenty-six golden plover was restless and vocal above the sheep, flying now in a tight knot and now in a gull-like V, their fluty calls making a lovely end to the day. 
Not quite the end, though. As we drove back to the A4 through the lanes, a sparrowhawk materialised from the hedgerow. Greger reckoned it flew along the road in front of the car for about 100 metres, at 25 mph and possibly as low as 20-30 centimetres above the ground before swerving up and over the hedge and out of sight.// posted by Christine @ 10:11 AM 
