A small moment this morning in the chaos of breakfast; putting bread out for the birds I could see the half-moon through the bare branches of the beech tree and there was a cool nip in the air, but the day felt fresh and silent. Now that we have lost the direct light the daylight has changed and the days are darker. But for 30 seconds this morning all I could hear were birds - ducks on the Moor, pheasants, sparrows - and see the clear moon in a washed out pale blue sky.
On the way to Ludlow today I surprised a kestrel scavenging on the road; close enough to see tight muscular legs and cream-and-brown speckled underbelly feathers. And on the way home from Presteigne we saw a sparrowhawk on a telegraph pole; we have seen red kites on the same road. We drove through a shoot the other day; tweeds and hats and guns and muddy dogs, and beaters emerging from the hedges with braces of pheasants. A gloomy day, a muddy road, the epitome of November.
The season is winding down towards winter. The days are shortening and we have lost the light by about 5pm. Heavy clothes have become the norm. I find it strange that at one time I meant to relate my seasons to saints days, lost festivals and old rituals; but instead I record weather changes and bird stories.
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