It stared at me with unblinking eyes. I recognised the wheezy hiss that I had heard many times in the warm barn. The chick’s parents were both hunting over the dark fields so I would not be caught in the act. Inserting my leather-gloved hand I grasped the downy body ready to attach the coloured ring.
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rugby843 on Tale Weaver #125 Bobby Fairfield on Tale Weaver #125 rugby843 on Tale Weaver #125 Bobby Fairfield on Ronovan writes #153 –… Pat B on Ronovan writes #153 –…
Recent Comments
rugby843 on Tale Weaver #125 Bobby Fairfield on Tale Weaver #125 rugby843 on Tale Weaver #125 Bobby Fairfield on Ronovan writes #153 –… Pat B on Ronovan writes #153 –…
Writing, events, competitions and even some self-penned bits · Events, submissions, poetry, chat.
HI Bobby, the link you gave me didn’t work the second time either! But I hopped over and found the entry anyway. Thanks so much for joining in, cracking entry. Out of interest, are you Hertfordshire based? I saw the Verulam writers day, and I live in Hertfordshire too!
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I really must sort out this link idea, perhaps the fact that I’m not from Hertfordshire explains my lack of technical expertise, as you see from my photo I tend to be still in the Dark ages.
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