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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Environment
Nic Wilson

Country diary: The wood spreads its wings and takes flight

Red kites watch from a tree.
How many more are watching, unseen? Red kites watch from a tree. Photograph: Paul Miguel/Alamy

Darkness swallows the meadow, extinguishing the hoarfrost that glistens on the grass. It’s cold but I daren’t move, for I’m not the only watcher in the gloaming. In a leafless ash on the edge of the wood, I count nine raptors silhouetted against a pallid pink sunset. Their motionless bulk is unnerving; their mournful mewing shrills through the icy air. How many more are watching, unseen in the trees?

On shadow-fingered wings spanning almost 2 metres, a dozen or more red kites glide above the wood in effortless holding patterns, each awaiting its turn to land. No sooner has one begun the final approach than the next drifts down, all drawn to this isolated spot by a shared desire for company. Most will be first- or second-year birds that have not yet mated, perhaps here to size up potential partners or scavenge in loose groups tomorrow.

Known locally as ‘puttocks’ or ‘crotchet-tailed puddocks’: a red kite in Hertfordshire.
Known locally as ‘puttocks’ or ‘crotchet-tailed puddocks’: a red kite in Hertfordshire. Photograph: Alan Garner

Red kites have been recorded at this communal roost since 2019 – a new congregation in ancient woodland. But they have a long history hereabouts. Once a common breeding species, the kites (known locally as “puttocks” or “crotchet-tailed puddocks”) disappeared from Hertfordshire more than two centuries ago. The only reminders of their erstwhile ubiquity survive in old placenames such as Puttockhill, Puttockdean and Puttocksoak.

In the last few years, descendants of reintroduced birds have been present in the county in remarkable numbers, and nowhere is their collective presence more uplifting than at a winter roost. I’m thrilled to have seen so many and assume the spectacle is over, when the wood spreads its wings, releasing a skyful of kites. A quick tally totals 64, but stragglers are still arriving, and more wait in the trees.

When the watchers in the puttock ash leave their pre-roost group to join the rapturous sky-dance, I realise only eight of them are kites. The ninth, a buzzard, heads off north on steady wings. Behind it, the wood settles down again, its roosting revelries over for another night. I feel privileged to have seen red kites return, not just from the day’s feeding forays, but from the abundance of a wilder past.

• Country diary is on Twitter at @gdncountrydiary

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