Sparrowhawk visit

Our garden is regularly visited by a female sparrowhawk. I rarely see her catch anything, although she has some considerable success with the large local population of wood pigeons if the little clusters of feathers that occasionally appear on the lawn are anything to go by.

She is usually a challenge to photograph, as a hunting sparrowhawk moves at a speed that makes greased lightning look sluggish. My normal view of her is a glimpse of a feathered blur erupting over the hedge, raising a flurry of blackbirds and finches and blue tits ahead of her like a cloud of dust from a broom, and then exiting equally precipitously over the other hedge, transit time measured in seconds.

This time, however, I happened to glance out of the window and there she was sitting on the patio, looking ruffled and somewhat miffed. My guess is that whatever she was chasing performed a handbrake turn round the corner of the house (at least one of the local blackbirds is a dab hand at this manoeuvre), and she failed to make the turn and crash-landed.

She was evidently unhurt, because after a few minutes she stretched her wings, shook her feathers back into order and flew away. But for once she sat still long enough for me to find my camera.

Isn't she beautiful?