Updated: Mar 25, 2021
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 their heaths and haunts no threat to my fate.
The fear I feel is from humankind,
Traipsing and trampling, Cyclers and snufflers bait.
I sit motionless for as long as I can,
But know my biggest predator is that of man.
Flying in fear as I am continually flushed out,
By heavy boots, tyres and dogs on a scent.
Now the corvids and hawks make their move,
While I watch the devastation of my brood,
The disturbance has a knock on effect,
lapwings scream and curlews fly 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 breed, feed and fledge our young.
Written by Jen Blaxall.