Of Fledglings and Flowers

In the dying light, life shows itself resilient in the insistent chirps and cries of fledglings. A pair of blue tit parents flit frantically from one fledgling to another, feeding them up for their first night alone. 

Fed to bursting, this fledgling can't keep its eyes open. 

Until it hears the mechanical click of the camera shutter.

And then it sleeps again.

In another tree, sparrow fledglings are given their freedom. A little less insistent than their blue tit cousins, they explore the trees, the grass, and the dusty driveway without fear. No dogs or cats roam the gardens today. The ravens and crows have yet to visit. 

The sparrow parents can rest, for a moment, content that their fledglings are happy.

Another type of "bird's nest", meanwhile, dances in the evening breeze. Nigella, beautiful in its daintiness seems to wear a tutu like a fairy ballerina disguised as a flower.

The irises are like flamboyant flamenco dancers, showing off their hidden colours for the bees before night falls.

And with one last burst, the light dies in sepia tones on another lockdown day.