In the corner of a golf course are a couple of established oak trees as well as an old tree stump. Usually after a rain, a variety of mushrooms pops up from the earth in this very corner.
A merlin preened on a branch of a skeletal tree, contorting its body into all sorts of interesting positions as it tidied and fluffed its feathers with its beak and talons. Far away, in the distant overcast sky, the chatter of two crows sounded. Two black spots flew into view. And they saw the merlin.
A large shape was on top of the otherwise thin and angular branch and looked slightly out of place. But it was not out of place at all. It was an owl.
