The Lark descending.

I haven’t seen or heard a Lark for years, and now I’ve taken a photo of one I still can’t see it.

Memories of childhood living five or six miles from the centre of Birmingham, and walking the fields that are now Richmond Road, listening to them (and Cuckoos) and shielding the eyes from a blazing sun to try to see one, and follow it as it descends.

Once again we were on Pen y Bont common arriving early for a trip to get straw. Stepping out of the car and the ether is alive with competitive Larks shouting to each other that they are the best parents.

As we (May) know from school, when a Lark descends you can locate the nest. So much for the old wives, what do they know? This one, as you can see from the picture, negotiates a tricky George Best style manoeuvre, dodging , feinting, double flipping and sowing general confusion about the exact location.

If you have visited the Commonwealth war graves in France you may also have heard Larks almost wherever you go. A beautiful noise, and such an attractive bird as you can see!