Birdsong – at last – in the late dawn a bit of hope for lighter days. The blackbird sings a sharp and purposeful song and tails off to a ‘so there’ mutter. The robin is irrepressibly cheerful and irresistibly positive. At last the crows don’t have it all their own way.
The Seventh Stone
A crow on every fence post – ravens and hoodie-craws – sentinel the gloomy, grey garden. Many beady eyes look at me as I open the kitchen curtains. No cheery chirping from these bully boys. They are menacingly beautiful and intelligent creatures. The perfect January birds.