Pollocky Rooks.

I love the shouts and cries of big black birds. It is such an evocative sound.
I remember the call of one filling a church yard in Ireland when I was about five. It seemed to echo into my own throat and head.
There were Rooks in the trees going down to our garden in Co Meath. Spring seemed real once I had heard them building and quarreling, or chatting each other up, as they built their precarious looking nests so high up in the spindly branches. While below them Primroses had just come out in the warming earth, which smelled so good..
I wont be able to see these nests in a few weeks. They will be full of demanding chicks safely surrounded by thick glossy new Chestnut leaves.

The nests and branches looked like a Pollock painting to me when I saw them on my Camera screen. I confess to preferring nature's and the bird's work.