Swooping season

The sun was shining brightly and for once the wind had stopped howling in the valley. It was a quiet day. Apart from the insane pecking and fluttering of a lone magpie lark. They're not the brightest of birds, and this one - I'm sure it's the same one - is a frequent visitor to the office I work in. He has been working his way around all the windows and doors, attempting to scare away the other bird he sees reflected back at him. A year on, and he's still doing battle with himself several times a day. He's obviously stubborn beyond mere human understanding.

In so many ways this bird, pecking away at the glass, fluttering to try and make himself seem bigger and more important, is representative of the residents of the estate I work on. In fact, I think they should take him as their mascot. We're in the process of commissioning artwork, a series of totem poles to be erected near a major pathway. Birds will feature pretty strongly. I'm putting forward the mud lark as my suggestion. The only other bird that could even be considered is the greedy sea gull, who appear to have become confused enough to think that the lake is a small inland sea. They are greedy, noisy, and leave a mess behind for me to clean up after them. But they still have more brains than the mud lark.

I stand by my first verdict. If you have to choose a bird to represent our residents, it has to be one of the most stupid, petty, stubbornly aggressive birds in the country. The magpie lark it is.