I had to drop off a snorkel and face mask for my godson Spud (so named because of the uncanny resemblance he bore to a potato at birth – he’s much older now, but still has the look of a King Edward about him), so I detoured via Plex to have a butcher’s at the stubble fields.
Best not dwell too much on what a teenager needs a snorkel and face mask for in the late summer dry West Lancs farmlands, but at least the stubble fields were interesting, being hunted over by Kestrel, Common Buzzard and a fine young Marsh Harrier.
The Marsh Harrier repeatedly pitched into the stubble, presumably after invertebrates, when it wasn’t scattering Woodpigeons and Stock Doves on lazy forays into the stiffening westerly.
I was always the wrong side of the wind to get particularly close to the harrier, but it was fun watching it for half an hour or so before the raptors melted away and the heavy rain swept in.
Ahh, so that’s what he wanted the snorkel for….