Through a naturalist’s eyes
There was a commotion of small birds in the trees. I assumed that they were cursing a cat, but the protests were so persistent that I felt drawn to go and see what was wrong. The birds were mobbing a Little Owl, which I saw only when it flew out from a tree, where it had been well camouflaged, and made for a large oak nearby. The protesting small birds followed it, still protesting.