Everyday, on my walking-commute to and from work, I pass under a spinney of ash trees supporting a rookery; causing the birds to scatter noisily. I was rather pleased with this photo as three rooks appear as one, landing in step-by-step motion. It reminded me of this poem by Ralph Hodgson:
“I climbed a hill as light fell short,
And rooks came home in scramble sort,
And filled the trees and flapped and fought
And sang themselves to sleep.”
Gabriel Hemery
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