Saturday, February 22, 2014
A walk of eleven and a half kilometres in bright but windy conditions brought rosy cheeks, and a gathering of seven or eight ravens circling right above us. They can lose quite a few feathers from their wings at this time of year and still fly beautifully.
The raven circled above the trees for a while, uttering a call that transported me from the deciduous woods to wilder northern forests cloaked in snow. It must be from this particular call that the bird gets its Swedish name of "korp".
Greger watches four of the ravens drifting off to the north.
As we drove away from the crowded car park a large, long-tailed bird was spotted flying north. For a moment I was flummoxed, then I realised it was a pheasant. I've never seen one fly so high, and the effect was heightened by the dropping away of steep slopes beneath it. I wondered if it felt a bit giddy, finding itself suddenly so far from the ground - and then the car moved on and it was gone.
// posted by Christine @ 10:39 AM 
