For Those in Peril from the Air

Bluebell wood
We had a somewhat unexpectedly nice day today (especially after yesterday degenerated into thunder and sudden hailstorms, when the Met Office had confidently predicted ‘light showers’) and the ride down to the papershop was pretty perfect – the bluebells are still going so the air was full of their scent, I bumped into a couple of friends for a chat on the way, and best of all there was no wind, for the first time in ages. By the time I had got to the shop I had peeled off my gloves and jacket, which means it was seriously warm (I have been known to cycle the whole summer in gloves). But I was still doggedly wearing my tweed cap, even though my head was boiling, and no chance to take it off until I was at least half way home.

The reason? We’re getting perilously close to buzzard season. Every shadow that passed over me as I approached Buzzard Alley made me duck ever so slightly, anticipating the rush of talons at my back. A buzzard suddenly appearing in the trees beside the road as I pedalled out of Papershop Village made me jump, but it wasn’t interested. Further up, at the top of the climb where ASBO Buzzard likes to ambush me from the forest, I did hear the peevish calling of a pissed off buzzard, but if it was my nemesis it was too busy being hassled by a crow to take a swipe.

Last year I was caught by surprise and I’m determined it won’t happen again – although I’m now wondering whether it wouldn’t be less stressful not to anticipate its attack, especially as I can’t really do anything about it other than keep wearing my hat and hoping for the best. Ideally I’d get myself a video camera and try and catch it in the act but it would be difficult to point it in the right direction given that it likes to keep me guessing. I may just have to invite Magnatom and his fancy 3D camera down to see if we can’t capture it whichever angle it approaches from

Either way, this is definitely one of the things I’m not going to miss when we move.


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