When the Eagle Cries
Often I think I'm delusional. Other times, I'm convinced that a stunning Red Kite is trying to communicate with me. My new friend stems from a small breeding program that rescued the species from extinction. The program's success has made this majestic bird a relatively common feature of the British landscape. A shy raptor that relies on carrion, scavenged from the fields and mountainsides.
This particular bird, has found the nerve to forage in my little town. Every day around 3.30pm, Alfredo flies over my house. Sometimes he descends so low that he has to weave between the aerials poking out from the rooftops. A few weeks ago, he landed on the green in front of my house. His regal head and black tipped wings poised for take-off before the kids from the estate could get near.
I have vivid Tolkien-esque dreams where Alfredo sees me struggling home with my shopping and swoops down to grasp me in his talons. Perhaps it is just a matter of time when his friendly eagle screech becomes an invitation for me to fly to distant lands. Sadly, it is more likely he is hoping I will feed him. Now wouldn't that be a pet to make the neighbours talk?