This year sees the 12th anniversary of my move from England to Cyprus

a dead kestrel

Yesterday morning I awoke to a bit of a disastrous start to the day. My Holly, bless her, our old English Springer,

image of a dog

had an accident during the night so I was on clean up duty at 7am. Once that was accomplished I opened the side gate so she could walk around the front garden and have a good sniff at whatever had been through the garden that night and what did I spy?

A dead Kestrel.

You don’t normally see kestrels so up close and personal, alive or dead, but this magnificent animal had obviously just flown in and died. That led me to speculate it had been hit by a hunter’s shotgun pellets, managed to fly to relative safety and then die. Sundays and Wednesdays are both reserved for hunters in the winter and they blast away at anything that moves dawn to dusk.

But on closer inspection I couldn’t see any blood. So then I assumed the poor bird had been caught by a local cat, there being quite a few living round here. But, again, no blood. So, I now assume that it was an old bird and as it was particularly cold on Wednesday night, maybe it settled itself into our bushes for a nice snooze and then died in its sleep.

Either way, it’s a sad death for such a magnificent wild creature. But I guess that’s life, or in this case death.

Copyright © Tom Kane 2020

This year sees the 12th anniversary of my move from England to Cyprus. In 12 years I’ve seen life, death, flying dogs, UFOs and even trained as a snake charmer. You can read a few free chapters here or even buy the whole book for some paltry amount of money. Read it here.

 

 

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