A little flock of about a dozen chaffinches was feeding on the grass this morning. It scattered dramatically, accompanied by the alarm rattle of blackbird, as a male sparrowhawk swooped across the garden, landed briefly in the mountain ash and took off again in hot pursuit of a sparrow, into the honeysuckle thicket. After a few moments, the sparrowhawk emerged, empty clawed, and winged swiftly away. The garden was quiet for some time afterwards.
The wind has turned to the west, bringing the Atlantic ocean in its light drizzle. The frost is gone. And the lovely Ice Follies daffodils are open.