As Jen and I took our regular early evening walk around the lanes, I spotted a small bird flitting about the scrub in our farmer friend’s field. Even from 50 metres away, the bird’s untidy, erratic flight screamed whitethroat at me. Turned out I was right.
My first ever Hebden Bridge whitethroat—although not the first time I’ve identified a whitethroat by its ‘jizz’.
“…wonderful. Science and history and geography and evolution and culture all tangled up in musings while walking about the moors around Hebden Bridge.”—PZ Myers
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