Let's go spy a kite

For years, I’ve looked forward to my sporadic journeys down the M40 for one reason only: kites. As the motorway cuts dramatically through the chalk near Stokenchurch, you can always see large numbers of them swooping overhead. On holidays in France, too, I’ve marvelled at them riding the currents of the gorges. But, despite living a stone's throw from a wood know as Kite’s Nest Plantation, I’ve never seen one at home. Last week I looked out the window, hardly registering the bird of prey, and looked again: ‘That’s a buzzard, I tell myself, no, a goshawk...a peregrine.’ It was none of the usual suspects. The red kite flew out of the sun like a spitfire pilot, its wide wings effortlessly gliding, soaring, turning. It was only when it turned to make for home that the distinct fan tail gave away its true identity. Now I’m waiting to see it again.....