Winter had denuded the deciduous tree of its foliage. Long, spindly branches reached toward the grey, cloud covered sky. On one of the uppermost branches sat a buzzard, still and silent, surveying the surrounding scene. The only movement was the head rotating, presenting a profile first one way then the other of its dangerous hooked beak. Suddenly with one powerful beat of its outstretched wings it was airborne. It circled overhead a couple of times and then was gone disappearing eastward over a hedgerow heading east toward a mix of woodland and open farmland.
Stephen's Wildlife 