Or is she a Lady of the Highway? Perched high in the ash tree, camouflaged from view, the buzzard sits silent and still. The only clue to her presence is a deserted seed-loaded feeder... where are all our hungry feathered friends? Certainly, an unusual sight in these cruel arctic conditions...
Sticky globules of frog spawn litter the grass below the pond like the remnants of alien warfare, the leftovers of our Highway-Lady's breakfast: 'freshwater caviar on ice'. Hidden in the hide I have the perfect view of this agile stealth bomber as she lays in wait, preparing to swoop down and abduct lunch. Eerie woodland silence indicates that the starving garden birds sense her presence and prefer to remain hidden in the fledgling hedgerow. Desperation is in the air, Winter refuses to release its grip on the countryside where the birds, both hunters and gatherers, are being forced to take risks just to survive. This Highway-lady is no bored 17th century aristocrat desperate for thrills to escape domestic tedium, she is a powerful predator fighting for survival in a harsh environment. Nature reflects the human condition, every day acts of heroism and desperation abound...
