Country Diary: The Burren, Ireland

Romance held them in its warm embrace. They stood together, gazing out at the shining waters, silent before the final rising of the sun. He was tall, dark and handsome, although rather disheveled about the legs. She was his equal and, while not dancing, they certainly were standing cheek to cheek, completely motionless, rapt in each other, seeing no one, unaware of sounds, shadows, the stirring of leaf, twig or branch. Love was all and caught they were in its silken thrall. At last they were distracted when they were joined by several of their kind. The following day they were back and now they billed each other, massaging each other's beaks (I am sure it was the same pair). These two rooks were among my heralds of spring. I have a soft spot for the crow family.

Mary Ann, upon telling some of her fellow bridge players about my predilection, was treated to a delightful tale about happenings on the local golf course. One player, Sue, told how she drove off, then followed her ball, only to find a rook flying off with it. She turned to warn her partner, and heard a mighty shout - her partner's ball had also been hijacked. Somewhere there is a nest sporting lots of golf balls.

Birds have begun their love songs. Each of our male chaffinches may sing his love song half a million times in the season. The nightingale, I believe, has at least 300 love songs in his repertoire. Last night, in the gloaming, our hare stood motionless outside our front window. He was quite white-looking. Later he will become more brown. This has been a good week for sightings. Yesterday as we walked between Abbey hill and Turlough hill, Mary Ann grabbed my arm and pointed. Three meters ahead on the road was a pine marten. It walked across and slipped through a hole in the dry-stone wall.