Birds of good omen

The writer and friend Sara Maitland calls to tell me she's seen a pair of hen harriers on her land. The land holds the ruin on moorland near the western edge of Dumfries & Galloway in Scotland, where she is building her hermitage and writing retreat.

So of course I long to be there myself. SOME of me wants what you can get from a big city pulse, but MOST of me wants to be writing in some wilderness spot. Even remote disconnected shacks in Scotland go for more than I would like to budget - compare them with places in Normandy and the heart starts moving south.

Still it's all wishful thinking. I'm in Britain, my house is for sale but no takers, and I need to do a great deal of UK based research for a couple of books in any case. And spring will surely come and life be not so bad.

Just a few weeks ago I was watching a trio of black eagles circle above me in Zimbabwe. But even here in Bedfordshire the birds can do well. Hosts of goldfinches crowd the feeder. And on finishing a longterm novel recently I went for a walk beside the River Ivel. A heron, my bird of good omen, took off from the bank. Then a kingfisher skimmed the surface of the water. Some way along a kestrel was sitting on a wire. Then I saw a cormorant diving for fish. And the blackbirds and robins were singing their hearts out. Nature's often in accord with writing in that way. It's heartwarming.