An early start to my day strolling through the city street’s. That quiet time at the end of night, the start of day. Thoughts are my only company. No-one else awake, a solitary stroll. Except the screeching, the screaming of a hawk.
That other worldly prehistoric screech, it has to be high above the city street. Calling for its mate or young. Giving fair warning to pigeons hereabouts. I check my phone, Google says I heard a Peregrine falcon. Chuffed, what a nice way to start a day.
My stroll at lunchtime soon comes around. There laying dead, dismembered on the path ahead. Proof if proof were needed. The bloody remains of of one of Leeds finest pigeons.