It feels important that you hear the rest of the story

two days later,
Bevan Mwanza came running up the back path
with his eyes on stalks
and his binoculars bouncing up and down his little 8 year-old frame

‘the babies,
the babies have been eaten
I saw a kestrel come down and catch them
the  parents were crying and following him’

So that, dear friends, is the way of life

The trip from Zaire
the building the nest and laying the eggs
the feeding, and protecting
and cleaning the nest
and a Kestrel (red footed)
comes all the way south from Manchuria or Siberia
and drops out of the sky
to pick up the babies for a small snack.

This entry was posted on January 5th, 2011 at 11:26 am by Bev Reeler and is filed under Reflections, Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.