Three buzzards, then four, then five, were planing across the coeruleum sky, half-open books channeling upwards, closing shut to drop down, all the whi…
David Abbott
Now that it is March I cycle over to the downs on weekend mornings to spend a few minutes peering over the cliff, watching for peregrines.
David Abbott
A misty morning wonder and ponder through the woods with The Incredible String Band, William Blake and a boisterous wren.
David Abbott
I have been reading Vesper Flights by Helen Macdonald. It is a collection of nature essays exploring the relationship between humans and the natural wo…
David Abbott
Watching wildlife is a mixture of jizz and the specific. One might turn up for the general sense of wonder/wander and leave with a specific list of sig…
David Abbott
The world as we know it seems like it’s losing some of its resilience. I haven't seen a redwing for a couple of weeks and wonder if they've set off on …
David Abbott
I trudge over when the kestrel eventually flies off. The air is thick and potent, full of invisible leftovers. It feels like a moment of value, but wha…
David Abbott
-In the early hours of the morning, the taste of toothpaste still in my mouth, we woke to the teeth jangling sound of a vixen calling for a mate from t…
David Abbott
The kestrel that haunts the patch of ash and hawthorn is a cartoon kestrel. He's not like the real thing, more a child's drawing of a falcon. He is gaw…
David Abbott
A snatch of birdsong, but not from our garden. A ball of pigeons explodes like a firework across the sky.
David Abbott
My daughter has just run in shouting "Fox! Fox in the garden!" I look through the kitchen window in time to catch a white-tipped tail disappear behind …
David Abbott
The sky is the orange outside of a shell; the sward of icy grass the pale blue inner smooth and frozen. Dark trails of path and wheel rut snaking into …
David Abbott