Once the sun has risen and I have finished waiting for the mice who have not appeared, I enjoy the peace of the valley. From the distant drone of a chainsaw and the rumbling of a bulldozer to the constant barking of several dogs, the valley is a cacophony of noise. Amongst the din, which you learn to filter out, are the songs of robins and Sardinian warblers. Great tits and blue tits flit between the olives and blackbirds fly out after being startled by something. Jays and hooded crows make their way across the valley with the occasional long-legged buzzard circling above. Unfortunately, the rock partridge has not returned yet, but I am still hopeful.
A couple of days ago, whilst scanning the olive grove for movement, I heard the plaintive call of a long-legged buzzard. I turned around to search the valley, hoping for a decent photograph, as I have only got long distance shots of them so far. The bird was a long way off, so I began to turn back to the grove when something hit the branch behind me. I jumped and then turned around quickly. The female sparrowhawk I had seen previously had landed 6ft away from me on a branch level with my head. As I was turning, she realised her mistake and shot off.
I was one incredibly happy man as I watched her disappear through the trees. That camouflaged balaclava really does work, even if I do look stupid in it. It is these little events that make the standing around and getting cold worth it. Back out again tomorrow morning.
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