|Hmmm………….quiet, too quiet.
Normally towards the end of June the garden is full of fledglings. Fortunately we still have a healthy population of House Sparrows and their constant chatter can be heard throughout the year. Apart from this evening – nothing. Absolutely nothing. No bird song whatsoever.
|Standing by the back door and looking over the raised bed the reason why became clear. A male Sparrowhawk plucking a young Great Tit.|
|Although gruesome we let the Sparrowhawk continue to finish what it had started. After a couple of minutes it took off taking the remains of its latest victim into a large Birch tree before heading off over the houses to a neighbouring woodland.|
|No mistaking the eyes of a killer.|