Working Class Hero

Sometimes i think our feathered friends have it in for me.

At present i have 12 pheasants digging up the roots of my huge Blue Spruce tree while fighting for scraps that have fallen from the bird feeder, not a single one of them will pause even for a second to give me a photogenic shot.

Open the sunroom doors and off they gallop, like Usain Bolt on laxatives.

The Buzzards that hung in the air around Wortley and emptied the skies of all other birds
were far too intent on much more amorous pursuits than bothering with the likes of me,
drift into shot, flirt with the autofocus which gets giddy with desire, and then drift out of shot with a coquettish shrug of the feathers.

The rooks that patrol the old people's bungalows where my dad lives and stroll up and down the gardens like sinister wardens, have donned some new camouflage which has defeated my sensors,

and the Kestrel that haunts the A629 and was responsible for me nearly having two road traffic accidents and nearly getting knocked over whilst running across the road..... i can barely get my breath to expalin its audacious hovering and drifting away on currents, silently laughing as it goes.

and so it falls again to my little industrious friends to provide the focus for todays blip, a late afternoon shot through my front window,

thats it, done!