Magical

As the sun dipped below the horizon, hands dug firmly in my pockets  and furry hat keeping off the chill  there was nothing but the call of a covey of pheasants and the tweeting of a flurry of long-tailed tits in the trees. I thought I was wasting my time on the owl front.

Suddenly over the brow of the hill in the dim light I caught a glimpse of white wings  as he quartered the field. Magical in the cold and quiet of the dusk just to catch a glimpse of him on a flypast.