THE PLEA OF A SKYLARK.
Driven by instinct I fly to the heather,
To run the gauntlet in the fairer weather.
I sit tight with hope for the next generation,
Camouflaged and quiet amongst the vegetation.
The ponies and deer use their fairways to migrate,
Though the heaths and their haunts no threat to my fate.
The fear I feel is from human recreation,
Trampling and cycling with no consideration.
I sit motionless for as long as I can,
But I know my biggest predator is man.
Flying in fear as I am continually flushed,
By boots, tyres and dogs snuffling bait.
Now the corvids and hawks make their move,
While I watch the devastation of my nurtured brood,
The disturbance has a knock on effect,
lapwings scream while exposing their nests.
A simple plea from a skylark on eggs,
Reducing disturbance I ask you to pledge,
Stay off the heath in the coming months,
While we quietly, nurture and fledge our young.
Written by Jen Blaxall.