This week a buzzard flew in for lunch. I must confess I was most surprised to see him. I suspected that the bird table had attracted him in, but no, I was wrong. He arrived with a takeaway, one he had obviously plucked fresh from the sky. He reminded me of a busy person (maybe me?) who grabs a quick sandwich and travels from somewhere to somewhere else at speed, one who doesn't have time to sit down to taste the sandwich or linger over the accompanying cup of coffee.
So he sat in our garden and unpacked his sandwich of grey feathers and slowly and surely feasted in a fashion quite befitting of one used to fine dining in urban gardens. We gazed at him in amazement from the study window, not making a sound, merely wondering which of us was going to clear the table when he had gone!
And guess who drew the short straw?