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The wonder of worm fuel | The wonder of worm fuel |
(7 months later) | |
Traditionally each village in the Broads had what’s called a staithe, a tiny “port” linking it commercially to the wider regional river system. Rockland’s is among the prettiest: a rectangular tidal pool, edged with steel-plate revetments and dotted with mooring posts, to which are attached idle dayboats with names like Windsong. | Traditionally each village in the Broads had what’s called a staithe, a tiny “port” linking it commercially to the wider regional river system. Rockland’s is among the prettiest: a rectangular tidal pool, edged with steel-plate revetments and dotted with mooring posts, to which are attached idle dayboats with names like Windsong. |
On one side is a young oak grove that remains an almost permanent sump of winter shadow gathered over a neatly mown lawn with two slatted benches. Aside from the occasional fisherman plodding to his pitch, the grove is entirely untenanted and quiet, but for its one winter robin and, now, a female kestrel. | On one side is a young oak grove that remains an almost permanent sump of winter shadow gathered over a neatly mown lawn with two slatted benches. Aside from the occasional fisherman plodding to his pitch, the grove is entirely untenanted and quiet, but for its one winter robin and, now, a female kestrel. |
It is an odd haunt for her, but one can hardly overstate this falcon’s versatility. The stock hover-and-pounce vole-hunting method of kestrels can overwhelm anything from crows to bats or dragonflies. I once saw one steal prey from a short-eared owl in a high aerial dog-fight, while their daylight robbery of barn owls is so commonplace it often forces the owls to hunt by night. Yet this female was seeing out the grinding cloud-brewed misery of the month by catching worms. | It is an odd haunt for her, but one can hardly overstate this falcon’s versatility. The stock hover-and-pounce vole-hunting method of kestrels can overwhelm anything from crows to bats or dragonflies. I once saw one steal prey from a short-eared owl in a high aerial dog-fight, while their daylight robbery of barn owls is so commonplace it often forces the owls to hunt by night. Yet this female was seeing out the grinding cloud-brewed misery of the month by catching worms. |
The technique involves sitting under the trees, over the turf, the dozen rusty bars of her black-striped mantle-feathers puffed out for comfort, where she waits. Waits and watches, eyes angled relentlessly down. Then she drops, silver underwings flashing even in the submerged watery gloom, and pounces, twisting foot to beak, and pulling on the lank, pink flesh. Then a bill wipe and up in more deft silver strokes, and we are all as we were; minute by sodden minute. | The technique involves sitting under the trees, over the turf, the dozen rusty bars of her black-striped mantle-feathers puffed out for comfort, where she waits. Waits and watches, eyes angled relentlessly down. Then she drops, silver underwings flashing even in the submerged watery gloom, and pounces, twisting foot to beak, and pulling on the lank, pink flesh. Then a bill wipe and up in more deft silver strokes, and we are all as we were; minute by sodden minute. |
It was odd to reflect that there was an underlying relationship between those light-filled movements and that worm-fuel energy. All that elan was, in effect, earth-eaters and, thus, soil itself. I suppose that a secondary element in this ecological moment is the words on kestrel movement that now muscle and sinew out of this article into your brain. In a way, your imaginings of a kestrel’s dogged survival in these sullen times, like the bird itself, are all just emanations processed from the same wet earth. | It was odd to reflect that there was an underlying relationship between those light-filled movements and that worm-fuel energy. All that elan was, in effect, earth-eaters and, thus, soil itself. I suppose that a secondary element in this ecological moment is the words on kestrel movement that now muscle and sinew out of this article into your brain. In a way, your imaginings of a kestrel’s dogged survival in these sullen times, like the bird itself, are all just emanations processed from the same wet earth. |
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