Marazion Marsh Harold C. Harvey,
© Penlee House Museum & Gallery
"Now that September is here, the nights are gradually drawing in. By 8 p.m. the sun has set, and the sky is almost dark. Outside the Old Vicarage, a hundred yards or so east of the village shop, a bird is perched on the telegraph wires: those same wires where, a few months ago, the first swallow of the summer was sitting.
The bird is a tawny owl. It sits on the topmost wire, unnoticed by drivers passing beneath on their journey home from work. Occasionally it twists its head slowly from side to side; though even when a medium-sized bat passes closely by it takes no notice. After a few minutes, it drops off the wire on soft, silent wings, disappearing into the dense foliage of a sycamore. In an hour or so, when the remaining glimmer of light has finally been enveloped by darkness, it will go hunting, listening for the rustling of hidden rodents below."
Wild Hares & Humming Birds Stephen Moss
* "Tu-whit, tu-whoo!" Love's Labour's Lost, Winter song, W. Shakespeare