Our house is nestled at the edge of our village, facing out onto fields and forests for as far as the eye can see. Sitting in my front room, I regularly see buzzards swooping and soaring over the fields. Generally, they are quite far in the distance, but occasionally they do come quite close. I was lucky once to be in the garden, camera in hand, when one flew over the house. Most of the time, though, they are gone from range before I have time to grab my camera. Continue reading “A Buzzard Soars”
June Molloy 