Our friend Paolo is driving us round some of his favourite birding spots in Tarquinia in Italy. It’s hot, I’ve got the windows down and my eyes peeled.
He stops and exclaims, “Picchio verde.” I know what that means: there’s a Green Woodpecker on the lawn of this domestic house. The three of us get out of the car as if we’re a SWAT team, swinging behind a low wall and peering over it as if there’s a hostage rescue underway. I hope there’s nobody watching from the house.
It’s a juvenile bird. I’ve never taken a photograph of one before.
It’s lovely to see. I just hope nobody’s seen us.