We break from our labours on the hillside, having already cleared a substantial bay in the dense thorny thicket. Hawthorn, blackthorn and dogwood lay in untidy piles, ready to add to the hungry fire.
From somewhere amongst the trees opposite a sudden cry cuts through the crackle of the flames: kee-kee-kee. Then again: kee-kee-kee. I search the wide sky and the gap across the valley for the source. Kee-kee-kee.
It ‘quarters’ its chosen hunting ground, hovering for a while before flying a short distance on fast, shallow beats, interspersed with gliding before rising and hovering again.
It drifts away and seems to rise without effort as though caught by a sudden up-draught. It hovers, no more than a dozen feet above the ground and just the other side of the Land Rover; it obviously regards us as little threat. Wings silently flutter and tilt, working to maintain its position in the gentle breeze, tail spread, body angling but head perfectly still, eyes locked onto the ground, an attitude that has earned it the common names of ‘Windhover’ and ‘Hoverhawk’.
Along with most of our other birds of prey it was virtually eliminated in the 19th century by gamekeepers – regardless of the fact that the threat it posed to game management was negligible. Then, again in the 1950s and 60s it’s numbers were hit again when widespread use of increasingly toxic chemicals in agriculture (now mostly banned) led to the poisoning of its prey and subsequently of the bird itself. However, on both occasions this remarkable bird’s adaptability, early maturity and relatively high productivity meant that it was able to bounce back and is now our most common falcon and one of our most common birds of prey, behind the buzzard and the sparrowhawk.
However, this does not mean that the future of this bird can be taken for granted as, along with birds such as skylarks, lapwings and corn buntings, modern intensive farming is once again having a detrimental impact upon kestrel numbers.
By its very nature a bird of prey needs a plentiful supply of prey if it is to survive, therefore their presence is a reasonable indication of the state of the ecosystem.
As is somehow fitting for a British bird of prey, it is a wonderfully understated hunter, as even its descent upon its prey is not a dramatic stoop, rather a series of drops and hovers, before the final drop which is swift and silent and often deadly. And, although they can soar on thermals, kestrels don’t tend to use this as a method of hunting.