I AM fascinated by the different ways birds fly. Little birds like the blue tit (above) flutter their tiny wings for a moment, then glide for a moment, then flutter again, so that their flight is a sort of gentle up and down, up and down. Well, it certainly gets them there.

Crows remind me of young louts cruising around all over the place just looking for trouble, cawing all the time. Nasty bird of prey, like the sparrow hawk, hover up high, then flutter their wings to move a little , then hover again. Then suddenly swoop vertically down on some poor wee mouse.

But I really admire the wild duck who hurry up or down along the Shannon below my window here. They go in a dead straight line, zipping along purposefully to a definite rendevous which they have obviously decided on, distracted by nothing (unlike those idiotic crows). Sometimes in a formation of three, or sometimes alone. But always clearly with a purpose. I have to respect them.

And for gracefulness, there is nothng like the seagulls that come up along the river when it’s stormy. The graceful way they ride the wind, moving their wings just slightly to hover, has fascinated me since I was a boy. I used to long to be able to fly like them, but now I have to use bloody aeroplanes. #