*uckoo

Just before my trip to Orkney, I managed to fit in a trip to Dartmoor and one of my favourite places for Cuckoos.

As usual, it’s full of birders and bird photographers who think that finding a bird is the equivalent of hunting. It isn’t. It’s the equivalent of fishing. Find a lovely spot, with a great view and comfortable seat, set up your equipment, and wait for the wildlife to come to you. It helps if you’ve spent a while studying the behaviour of the wildlife, so you know where it’s likely to be and when.

I find a pleasant spot to sit comfortably, with a view of a tree in which I know the Cuckoos like to perch, and set up my camera ready. Then I wait, enjoying the weather and the gentle breeze. I’m only interrupted occasionally by someone with a camera marching around wanting to chase Cuckoos. “I’m just sitting here waiting for it to come to me”, I say, as they wander off.

In the meantime I can enjoy the Meadow Pipits. I’m nice and still, and wearing full camouflage, so I get wonderful close views. What a smart looking bird. If there was a Cuckoo near it would be in a rage. Chasing Cuckoos gives their offspring a greater chance of survival, so their Cuckoo-repelling behaviour has been selected for over generations.

The gentle breeze gets up a little, which allows me to see what a lovely coloured rump Meadow Pipits have.

Finally a Cuckoo arrives. I can see it across the valley, against the distant trees, gorse and heather.

It lands and I can see its stunning yellow eyes and barred chest with gorgeous slate-grey dropped wings.

It’s not my best Cuckoo photograph, but then today was never about getting a better Cuckoo photograph than my previous ones. It was about living my best life surrounded by the natural world.

As I make my way back up the hill to my car, I can hear a male Cuckoo calling, “Fuck-you, Fuck-you” to all the Cuckoo hunters who have spent their afternoon harrying it around the hills, and I smile.