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Jeni Bell’s Wild Britain – A clamour of Rooks

A Clamour of Rooks

words and picture by Jeni Bell


The continued adventures Of Jeni , Bill and Millie……..

There’s a black mass happening outside our van.

A circle of attendees gathers in front of the bonnet, all adorned in the darkest blacks and the deepest midnight blues. This isn’t a solemn affair though. It’s raucous, a turning circle of noise and movement with capes flapping and indistinguishable chants floating through the air.

Something bangs loudly in the farmyard next door and the ritual gathering is abruptly disrupted. They take to the air, shrieking and spiralling chaotically; like dust shaken from a rug. Floating upwards they make for the safety of the trees at the far side of the campsite.

This is where they gather. Where they raise their young. A place to chatter amongst themselves and discuss the turning of the days and changes in air. They compare stick suitability and nest construction techniques.

Those trees are where the black mass usually congregates.

That is where the rooks live.

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