On my return to the back garden, I was about to step on the lawn when I noticed a white dove about fifteen feet away, apparently struggling to get to its feet with an injured wing.
The struggle was probably due to the female sparrowhawk perched on the dove’s back with its talons sunk into the lower body. I froze, wondering why I never have a camera when I need one.
The hawk was shielding the dove with its wings and bent down to start plucking, which was a bit previous as the dove was still quite lively.
The hawk shifted to get a better grip and the dove exploded into the air in a blizzard of white feathers and tore past me with the hawk in hot pursuit, passing within a yard of me at lower than waist height.
The dove was jinking desperately but hit the patio door at a shallow angle and dropped among the large pots in front of the window, with the hawk stalking around the pots trying to get at it.
I didn’t want to interfere so retreated to the far end of the garden.
A little later I went back to see if I could find out what had happened.
The dove was in under a bush, the hawk apparently having abandoned it, but when I went closer there was some sudden movement and I was fixed by the glare of a fierce yellow eye guarding the kill and retreated.
The hawk was plucking the dove under the bush for around an hour, all that is left there now is a cushion of white feathers, with possible some inedible bits, feet and bill perhaps, remaining.
A sparrowhawk has been a regular visitor to the garden over the winter, but it is usually a male that I see, perched on the fence under cover and eyeing the bird table and feeders.
Photo by ijsselstein.groei.nl
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