I set off on a ramble through the Forest of Bowland

binoculars at the ready, a bird book to hand.

I hope to see some species that don't breed in the lowlands,

hen harriers and short eared owls, quartering the land.  

My list has pipits, crows and jackdaws,

grouse in surplus but no raptors.

I tick off golden plover, curlew and wheatear

but where are the skydancers? 

THEY'RE NOT HERE!

 

They ought to be in residence - this habitat would suit them.

They have no natural predators, there's pipits they could hunt

and surely it's illegal for anyone to shoot them

so why this glaring absence? What broom is there so brunt

it sweeps a native species from the hills?

I think they must be roosting, sitting still,

so I scan along the ridgelines but none of them appear.

Where are the skydancers?

THEY'RE NOT HERE!

 

No they're not here, where you ought to expect them.

They're not here and no one can say why.

I come upon a keeper who tells me he respects them 

he's eager to protect them and decries

those criminals that hound them from the moors.

He swears to strict compliance with the laws

but a shifty look suggests he's insincere.

Where are the skydancers?

THEY'RE NOT HERE!

 

England ought to have two hundred nests this time of year

but every time they try to breed, they seem to disappear.

Do the sheep attack them? Are they eaten by the deer?

Or is somebody shooting them?   To me the answer's clear

'cause where are the skydancers?

THEY'RE NOT HERE!

 

I'm lost in melancholy as I hike down from the ridge

thinking I'm the only one that cares,

but then I spot a gathering on the green at Dunsop Bridge

with protest placards flapping in the air,

murmurating angry birders,

trumpeting the wildlife murders.

Let's screech about the scandal till there's cause to raise a cheer.

Where are the skydancers?

THEY'RE NOT HERE!

Where are the skydancers?

THEY'RE NOT HERE!