There I was staring wistfully from the cliff top out across the sea to the north. I was scanning through binoculars dreaming of seeing a large cetacean surface amid a crash of white surf.
My vision was fully obscured for a second. I dropped the bins expecting to see one of the Herring Gulls that had been floating around. Instead I was being buzzed by a female Kestrel. We stared discerningly at one another for an instant and she carried on quartering the cliff face and I relaxed comfortably back into my daydream of finding a Fin Whale.
On my way back to the Landrover I came across her again. She was perched on a branch over the footpath. The light behind her was blinding. She could easily see me but I couldn’t see her clearly at all. If I was to get a photograph I would need to walk underneath her, turn and raise the camera. She would surely fly off as I did this.
I walked slowly and kept my hands in my coat pockets. Birds don’t like hands. Raise your hands in the air 200m from a roosting flock of gulls and every one will take to the air. I held my breath and as I passed underneath reached for my camera and turned slowly. She was still there. We obviously had history me and her; she knew I meant no harm. The spell was only broken as she glided down to the ploughed field to land on a morsel her keen eyes had picked out among the furrows.
Letter From Norfolk 