On Thursday – 13th. October 2016 – I stopped on my way home from work to pick-up a roadkill; sadly it was a beautiful Buzzard – already cold at the roadside. If there is one bird that I could choose to symbolise the spirit of Devon – the ‘Land of Two Moors’ – with its patchwork of small fields spread-out between – it would be the Common Buzzard – (Latin name – Buteo buteo). Everyday on my walks – I see and hear Buzzards circling and mewing overhead – and now I had the sad duty of recovering one that had been killed on the road. I hate to see wild animals squashed into the road until they become unrecognisable. I didn’t want to see it become a pancake of dried matter and feathers stuck to the tarmac on my journeys to and from work – it’s too matter of fact. I brought it home with me – and at the time of writing this – it is resting under the Mulberry tree in my garden.
Before laying it down – I stroked its soft feathers and cupped it’s bloodied head in my hand – and took some photos to remember it. A couple days have gone-by now – and I find myself thinking about the Buzzard often – so I have written a short poem to remember its passing.
I’m circling ever higher – beyond my usual limit – where I can see myself lying at a roadside – crying tears of blood.
Higher and higher – until the fields and moors that are my hunting ground are lost from sight – beneath a veil of cloud.
Onward and upwards nearer the Sun – I’m disappearing into light.
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