Deer Hill

The bleak moorland above Huddersfield is a favourite place to escape to. This morning at Deer Hill the leaden skies and rugged hillsides looked wonderfully mean and moody, and with just the whistling call of a solitary Whimbrel (a good bird round these parts!) as soundtrack, it was blissful - until the gun club opened for business that is! Still, we all need some place to unleash our latent aggression I guess and there's only so much room at the local football stadium.

The star attraction up here is the viable flock of Twite that gather for the handfuls of seed that a few of us are thoughtful enough to pack on our ramble. Over thirty of these hungry, rather nondescript finches were present but as ever were a real pain to get near. Of all the passerines in these parts, only Meadow Pipit, Ring Ouzel and Wheatear will venture to the high altitude realm of the Twite - hardy little souls indeed.

On the way back down we watched this Common Kestrel take forever to home in on it's prey only to emerge from the grass empty handed - or is that taloned?