In Berkshire, visiting Bill. Fifteen minutes ago, I was playing ball with Skip the dog, when a red kite drifted by, low above the adjacent copse. It was silhouetted against the early morning sun, twisting its body, as kites do, to adjust its flight-path. It was clearly searching for carrion.
Red kites are doing pretty well down here. We almost always see one or two when we visit Bill: a conservation success story (red kites, that is, not Bill). They haven't managed to re-establish themselves in West Yorkshire yet. Perhaps one day. If the local gamekeepers will let them.
Oh, looks as if Skip wants to play ball again.