Country diary: red kites shoot the breeze

Sandy, Bedfordshire: I see it micro-steering with its fingertips, the outermost primary feathers making constant tiny adjustmentsThough starlings are our reliable neighbourhood watch, they sound no alarms and make no fuss when the kites come. Those birds of prey are clearly guilty of hanging around, yet the sky police fail to send out distress flares of shrieking individuals to send the intruders flapping, as they would for a sparrowhawk. The starling flock keeps to its beat from A to B, no distractions, no deflections, and passes through.On a windy day, the red kites play. One of our resident pair begins its laborious ascent in front of my study window, each hard-fought wingbeat a steep, deep, slow row; the effort before ecstasy. At what appears to be a random height, it chooses to shoot the breeze, spreading wide its wings and tail, the freefalling parachutist that never drops. Continue reading...