golden wing, rustle of leaves, Mr Crow

With the sun low in the sky, the underneath of starlings wings become golden as they wheel into sun beams.

There is an oak in the Grove which still retains a lot of its leaves despite last night's wind. When you stand beneath it, you hear a continuous "hush... hush...hush" as though it is soothing a child to sleep.

Mr Crow sits on his favourite tree, his black feathers glinting in the sun. Some starlings, who also like this tree, seem embarrased by his presence, and move off in batches.