Wood pigeons.

21st May 2020. Box Cottage garden at teatime.

It’s a timeless classic, a pigeon on the wing. Green pasture and a pigeon on the wing. Lumbering take-off and a slap-slap, slap-slap as he goes. Calling out across field and wood, garden and village green, A voice of childhood, of adolecence, of adulthood. Of age. Of Ages. Generations of wood pigeon have sat and shat in this garden. Coo-cooed together on the old sandstone wall and in the apple trees. Whistled out their low good mornings and goodnights. The blue headed, white collared, pebble chested jungle bird of Britain.