Even as Autumn begins to tighten its grip on the English countryside, the predominant color still is green, though leaves change by the day, and once waist-high grasses are brittle, pale stalks.
It was a pleasant, afternoon stroll to walk off a delicious brunch, maybe get some snaps, and simply enjoy the change of scenery. We’d already been walking for a while when we spotted the creature, hiding in the still-long stalks, patiently waiting for its prey to make a move. Not a hair moved, its concentration was absolute. Then, with centuries’ old breeding, it inched forward, tail twitching, sinews perfectly controlled. Again it sat and waited in the grass, and then with acrobatic ease it flung itself across the space, landing more than twice its body-length away with a grace which would be the envy of any ballet dancer. We didn’t see its intended victim, but it must have escaped, because the creature sat again, eyes peeled, tail sweeping deliberately from side to side.
We had more miles to cover and we left quietly, so as not to disturb the hunt.