Poetry, An Affinity with Sheep and other poems

Buzzards high

A plaintive mew draws the eyes skywards.

First one buzzard and then a second soar

in gentle circles, slow, watchful, with

apparent ease concealing their potent

energy, menace.

Crows and magpies call out warning cries,

‘invaders at high noon’ anxious for their

nests, their young, their air space.

Wild pheasants scatter to hide from piercing

buzzard vision; bred pheasants are not our concern.

Let nature strike its own balance.

[May 2012: Defra earmarks £400,000 to cull buzzards to limit attacks on young pheasants reared for commercial shoots]