I’ve been standing in the garden this afternoon, painting a fence panel and listening to the ‘kee, kee, kee‘ calls of the Red Kites which nest nearby.
They circle over the woods, slowly climbing on thermals coming off the rising land and the farm buildings. They make their distinctive call as they fly, their forebrain calculating their altitude and speed, their hindbrain keeping track of threats to them whilst they also manage to keep a keen eye on the course and speed of their target. After a while whichever is allocated the hunter/killer role flies at least half a mile off target whilst his wingman stays on station, still making the occasional call.
The prey keeps a wary eye on the bird still aloft, listening to it occasionally calling out, then… with incredible speed and frightening accuracy, the hunter/killer swoops in at almost zero altitude from an unseen direction and snatches the bunny, cat, vole, mouse (whatever) and the Red Kite is gone – into the woods – where the hapless victim is literarily carved up.
Nature is cruel but, stone me, it’s quite brilliant at what it does.
We have a couple of Red Kites in these parts.
It’s great to watch them circle and soar.
Never seen them come down from their heady heights though.
Probably afraid of the gangs of cocky seagulls that seem to run the place now.
Them seagulls are right sods