Six forty five in the morning and there I am staggering upstairs with the bosses' first cup of tea and I see a bird having a picnic on the front lawn. She, because it's the female half of our local Sparrow Hawk partnership, has taken out a Wood Pigeon or Feral Pigeon and is ripping and tearing and dining happily about thirty or forty yards from the house.
Once the 'full English breakfast' was completed all that was left was a pile of feathers and the pigeon's crop which was full of seeds, freshly planted rapeseed we think. Everything else gone. Disappeared. Scoffed with evident relish during the gourmet deconstruction of the pigeon.
We do love the barred stockings and the thousand yard stare and we're also somewhat surprised she could get off the ground after that breakfast.