As I was almost passing the site today, I thought it rude not to drop in and, boy, am I glad I did. Picture the scene: a small area of Hawthorn and Blackthorn scrub, nestled amongst calcareous grassland, perched atop a ridge (a chalky fold if you will), amidst the b-e-a-utiful landscape of the South Downs. And there, bathed in the spring sunshine; ears caressed by the lilting song of Willow Warbler and the fruity utterances of Blackcap stand a motley group who, to all intents and purposes, appear to be involved in either:
- a public information film warning against the outcome of intra-familial marriage; or
- a very low budget advert for euthanasia.
This is a terrible image of the sparrow but it does illustrate the expression on it's face at the exact moment the chap emitted a barely audible involuntary moan as he succumbed to gravity. Look closely, you can see the bird has actually stopped 'chewing' and has a wonderful combination of mild surprise infused with contempt playing across it's features (notice the slight raise of the eyebrow).