Although known for their violent behaviour, there are many hawks that are quiet and gentle. This particular hawk, fearless and determined, displayed a confident attitude as it hunted above my head yesterday. Thankfully, I was too big a catch for him, but for the small birds and mammals in the sand dunes where I strolled, there were no particularly good places to hide. In broad daylight too!

      Even though he is not on the top of my most favourite bird list, I have to say, it was a magnificent sight to watch. After flapping his wings rapidly in the air, he used the momentum to glide gracefully and skilfully, above the sand dunes, searching for its prey. Thankfully, I did not witness the results of his hunger game.

       During mating time, the hawk (Accipiter gentilis) will fly with the female, up in the air where they mate before free falling back to earth. Together they build a nest, and together they maintain it and care for their young. Many of the hawk’s species are monogamous and will remain together for the rest of their lives.

Proverb: A hawk kills because it is his nature; a man because it is his pleasure.

Woken by the sun, my mind rested and more at peace with the world, my kind and unassuming husband and I (along with some friends) went on a picnic by the sea. This was not very hard to do, as we are surrounded on three sides, by water.

     So we packed the camper with comfort food; sandwiches, fruit, scones, teabags and chocolate, there were other things in the basket, but these were the things that mattered most. And with the Beach Boys music blasting away, we headed for one of our favourite walks, Rhossili Bay.

     Parking in Broughton, we climbed over the sand dunes to Blue Pool. The sun on our shoulders warmed our spirits and we sang as we headed towards the beach. At least, we all sang except my kind and unassuming husband, who would never do such a thing in public. However, our only audience, were the seagulls and hawks that looked down on us with disdain.  And then in the distance was Burry Holms (Ynys Ianwol), a small tidal island where I’ve set some of my children’s books.

      It was low tide so access to the island was relatively easy. I was so excited (like a child) as I ran on ahead to this place which 9,000 years ago, was inhabited by nomadic Mesolithic hunters. Imagine that! Evidence of their tools made from flint, were found in 1919 then some more, made from bone and wood were also dug up. During the Iron Age, a five acre hill fort was built here and in the medieval times, a monastery stood proud, looking out to where the sea meets the Atlantic Ocean. But it is the remains of an early monastic settlement and the ruins of a 12^th century church that always fills me with some spiritual charm. And it is here we all sat and talked about the life and the people that once walked this ancient piece of land that juts out into the sea.   

       We eventually made our way across the island, to our favourite picnic spot. The fading evidence of sea campion and thrift, were everywhere, but they will return again next spring.

       With just a short time left before the tide would come in and trap us on the island, we ate, and talked, and took photos of the grey seals bobbing about in the water. All in all, it was a wonderful end to a stressful week.

       And so my kind and unassuming husband is right, the world can indeed be a difficult place to live in but there are more good people in the world than bad, and beauty and peace is just around the corner.

As darkness falls, pitiful cries can be heard behind walls, in alleyways, in gutters across cities. They call for the people who once cared for them, to come home. Filled with fear and empty stomachs, these innocent animals of war are suffering. Left behind to fend for themselves, they roam the streets, frightened and confused. Death comes quick to those that stray on wrong territory and are blown to pieces. For the rest, the wait is endless.

      So often, at our home for waifs and strays, my kind and unassuming husband sits patiently and listens to my woes and worries, usually about animals and the world we live in. Last night, was one of those times. Just before lights went out, I listened to the news. This was a big mistake!

      It suddenly dawned on me that thousands of cats, dogs, cattle, zoo animals, all animals that were once in the care of their owners, are left to fend for themselves. My heart weighed heavily with the realisation of it all. I poured my heart out to my kind and unassuming husband. I talked about the world and all its problems but mostly I talked about war. But for all the talking, it got me nowhere. The problems were deeply rooted and it would take more than a country girl like me, to dig them up and burn them. 

       So once again, I strolled down to the pond with a cup of sweet tea in my hand, searching for answers inside my head. The night air rustled the leaves in the trees and rocked the old wooded swing as I stood alone in the darkness with thoughts of war, animals and the question, what is this life all about? The sun will continue to rise and set and life for the majority of us will go on as normal, but somewhere out there in the world there are innocent people and animals suffering because of a battle they never wanted.

        In the 1990’s, over half the animal livestock lost their lives due to mines in the Afghan war. Quite often, entire species are gone forever. Habitats are lost and migratory birds lose their way due to bombing and aircraft activity. No-one or nothing can escape the cruel reality of war.  

        With fear, poverty, homelessness, illness and starvation, it is no wonder that people have had to leave these animals behind. What choice did they have? And so these animals roam the streets, crying for food, but no-one hears them. Surely there should be a law to protect these innocent creatures of war which, through no choice of their own, are suffering and will continue to suffer until someone, somewhere, does something about it.

     On our way home from a birthday party just moments ago, I wondered how others celebrated birthdays around the world.

      For instance, I remember someone once telling me that children in Ghana have a special breakfast called ‘oto’ which is simply, a patty of mashed sweet potato and eggs fried in palm oil. This is followed later in the day by a stew and rice known a ‘kelewle’ which is a simple dish of plantain chunks.

       A child in India will celebrate their first birthday by having their head shaved while being held by a special fire. The renewal of the soul is thought to be obtained by cleansing the child of any evil they might have had in their past lives.

        And children living the cities in Sudan will celebrate their birthday but children in the country won’t. I’m not sure why this is so.

         What I found quite interesting is that the Chinese begin life without zero. A baby is one as soon as it’s born and at twelve months it is two.

          So many important people, I discovered, celebrate their birthdays twice a year, especially if their birthday falls at Christmas or in the bleak mid winter. However, it seems that they age just the same, one year at a time. I shall remember to inform my kind and unassuming husband that I intend to do the same in future, as my birthday is also at Christmas.

            Now it comes to the ‘leaplings’ or the ‘leapers’ born on February 29^th of any given year. You see, every other year there is no February 29^th due to it being a leap year. So the birthday celebrations end up on February 28^th or March 1^st so technically, these people have fewer ‘real’ birthday anniversaries.   

             So it seems, that people around the world celebrate (or not, in many cases) birthday’s in different ways. For me, I think the day you were born is a celebration of life and one should be reminded of this every year thereafter.

On Butterfly Wings she came to me

One winter’s day some time ago,

I knew that she was just on loan

To stay till she was fully grown.

And as I held her close to me and looked into her eyes,

I saw a special sparkle there, intelligent and wise.

I knew the reason for the butterfly wings

They warned me of her spirit,

That they would one day call her back

To fly the highest limits.

And so the years, they soon did pass

The fire inside was roaring,

For someone else had stole her heart

And sent her spirits soaring.

This child so wild and curious, so full of love for life,

This child I promised not to keep

Tied with ropes around her feet,

I will not crush her spirit free

She’ll thrive on nectar, like a bee,

She’ll make her way in life, I know

And take whatever life will throw,

And if she asks me why it is, she cannot see or feel these wings,

I’ll look at her and gently say, the words straight from my heart.

They are the arms that wrap around you

When you need me to be there,

They are the eyes you can look into

And see the memories we share,

They are the ears you can talk to no matter where you are

They are the Sun, the Moon, the Oceans,

The sky’s brightest Star,

They are the love that’s between us

The bonds we have made.

So when you climb upon these wings of life…don’t be afraid.

Be careful Wings, when it’s time

to take my strong willed child,

Be careful if you take her into the distant wild.

It will be with great sadness I’ll watch her go, but not with any regret,

Instead, my heart will be filled with love...... and yet,

I cannot help but wish that I

Upon her Butterfly Wings could fly.