Canoodling

They look so furious all that time that it's often not easy to decide whether birds of prey are indulging in conflict or courtship, but given the time of year, and the fact that this pair of Buzzards had been feeding quite peaceably together down in the field before my arrival put them to flight, I think they were almost certainly canoodling. But it was a pretty unstable situation, both literally and figuratively, because the tree wasn't big enough for both of them, and the smaller male bird (on the right) wound up losing his nerve - or balance - and heading off to look for a better perch.

Once again I was lucky to have spotted some interesting raptor activity on the way in to the owl field, because there was absolutely none during the ninety minutes I stood on the lane, waiting and chatting with HB: as on Tuesday, the shorties didn't show. Annoyingly, we heard that they presented beautifully in yesterday's overcast conditions, which makes me wonder if they fed so well then that they just weren't tempted to leave their tussocks in today's brighter and colder weather.

Never mind, goes the owlers' mantra. There's always tomorrow.

My second photo this evening shows a small flock of Golden Plover, which circled the sheep field a couple of times before landing to feed, and brought HB and me out in a fit of nostalgia. One winter six or seven years ago, back when there were more birds at this site than photographers, there was a big flock of golden plover which from time to time would take off en masse and create dazzling aerial patterns - almost like a starling murmuration, but in gold and white - before settling back onto the ground. Those, as they say, were the days.