In my experience people are either bird people of they most definitely are not.
I am - as a child I was a birdwatcher and, together with my friend Rebecca, filled notebooks with wildly exaggerated descriptions on the birds we had seen in the park behind her house. Now, I have sadly forgotten how to tell the difference between all the birds that visit the garden, but still avidly watch for my favourites. I don't like to miss the morning sweep of the heron as it flies through the wood and in the summer the blinds stay up so that I can watch the barn owl swoop silently past our bedroom window.
The chickens are one of the joys of my life - pecking about, chuntering on, wildly enthusiastic when they find a worm.
So it is not surprising that I was drawn to the book Corvus by Esther Woolfson which details her life with birds, - mainly a rook, a magpie and a crow - it has been my bedtime reading for the past couple of weeks and I finished it last night, reading on the shed veranda under the oil lights, feeling like I was on holiday.
Euan is definitely not a bird person, particularly if the birds can fly. He is fine with the chickens as they are pretty much earthbound but birds flying round the house is his idea of a nightmare. In fact he described Ms Woolfson's adoption of wild birds (all abandoned fledglings I have to add) as "bolt through the neck mad". This may have been to discourage me from even thinking about it.
This is what actually prevents me from thinking about it
So anyway, Euan will not be reading the book so if anyone local wants to borrow it let me know.
