I heard the curlew calling this morning as he flew above the moor.
A wonderful sign of Spring
An eerie song from a distant rise,
Curlew calling the song of the wild.
Mysterious and haunting; music to love,
A beguiling silhouette, glides above.
He searches the moor for a suitable site,
To build a nest in a place, just right.
Again he calls to his mate close by,
A courtship ritual as they soar and fly.
Early Spring, this time of year,
Curlews delight with their song, they share.