‘That buzzard of yours has been causing trouble again,’ papershop woman announced when I walked into the shop the other day. Apparently, it’s taken to feasting on local bird tables – not bird food, but little birdies as food. I checked that it wasn’t actually a sparrowhawk, but apparently not – the owner of the birdtable in question had surrounded it with wire to keep the sparrowhawks at bay but the buzzard just came along and swiped her puny defences aside with its talon. This switch in diet may explain why it didn’t swoop on us last time we went past – daringly bareheaded – even though it was lurking menacingly on its usual telegraph* pole.
I did try to explain that it wasn’t my buzzard – any more than the cyclists who regularly annoy drivers around here are my cyclists – but my protestations fell on deaf ears. And besides I have been bullied/flattered/strong-armed into putting my name down for the local community council for the parish. I’m not entirely sure what its powers are likely to be – I suspect the square root of bugger all – but I’ve no doubt that if elected (not that it usually comes down to an election around here; even getting enough people to stand is an achievement) – then we will be squarely blamed for everything that goes wrong all the same, and that will include delinquent birdlife.
* see earlier comments regarding telegraph wires.