Speed bonny bird...

The blur that is the fly-by of a sparrowhawk is part of a trip to the Ochils that reminds Keith of the connectedness of nature

A visit to the Ochils and a speedy sparrowhawk get Keith Broomfield all a-flutter.

This flash of blurry brown zipped through a small gap in the beech hedge with such speed that I had to reel my mind back to check whether I had really seen anything at all. But I most definitely had, so I quickened my pace along the farm track and peered through a nearby break in the hedge just in time to see the tail-end of a male sparrowhawk disappearing into some trees by the far bank of the River Devon, executing a final jink as he dodged beneath a low-hanging branch.

This was precision flying at its best – how could any bird fly so fast and low through that little hole in the hedge? Here was the supreme aerial predator; a bird that strikes terror among finches and tits by using speed and surprise as its weapons of choice.

Although sparrowhawks will often perch in a secluded spot, watching for songbirds to swoop down upon, they also embark upon fast, lowlevel hunting sorties in the hope of ambushing an unsuspecting victim.

This coppery-leaved beech hedge was certainly a good place to mount such an attack, as it often holds chaffinches, tree sparrows and yellowhammers. But I reckon that this time around the hawk had emerged empty-taloned, as a successful strike is usually accompanied by much anguished commotion and bird alarm calls.

I made my way over to the river where the sparrowhawk had vanished but there was no sign of it, so I struck a path upstream. To my left, the southern scarp of the Ochils rose steeply, blushed in myriad tints of colour. These are magnificent hills, steep in parts and rolling in others; an eclectic landscape that holds so many wildlife surprises.

I veered away from the river and headed towards a forested slope that flanks the far side of Strathdevon. This is such a peaceful place, the still winter air hanging heavy with the scent of moss and claggy soil.

In front of me, a dead tree trunk stood tall, pockmarked with a multitude of indentations made by great-spotted woodpeckers. These birds actively seek out such decaying wood, for it is easy to excavate and beneath the surface nutritious invertebrate life abounds.

Clinging tenaciously to the side of another nearby tree trunk were tiers of bracket fungi arranged like shelves in a cupboard. The species I had discovered has no common English name but it was nonetheless most distinctive with white undersides and a warmbrown top.

Like the woodpecker, these bracket fungi need decaying tree trunks to thrive, and indeed play their own vital role in the decomposition process of dead wood by ensuring nutrients are recycled back into the ground that will benefit the growth of new tree seedlings.

Woodpeckers, fungi and trees – all so different yet all so dependent upon one another; a reminder of the fragile, interlinking web of life that secures our very existence.

A sparrowhawk in full flight. Picture: Getty Images.