©2019 created by Nicole Lupton (copyright includes all artwork, photos and text)

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“The little black bird was singing, as a gentle wind ruffled his feathers, he shook his little black wings after he sung his beautiful song, then took flight into the open sky, the blue sky swallowed him whole, we look up and see he’s gone, nothing stays for long.” A. Bentley

There can’t be a person in the world that hasn’t imaged themselves as a bird gliding high in the sky, as the wind blows over them as they survey the patchwork of the countryside below. With modern advances we can come close to knowing what this might be like, looking down from a plane window or from hand gliding. This can be exhilarating but nothing can come close to the real flight of a bird, as nature intended.

These thoughts cross my mind when standing at the very top of a tor on Bodmin Moor, almost high enough to see the world through the eyes of a bird. As often as not, a bird would torment me with its majestic flight, a Kestrel will hover overhead or a buzzard would circle round using the thermals bef...

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