The Kestrel came just as afternoon was fading into night. Head hunched, quick wings cutting through the silence, it quartered the woods. Reaching the acre of set-aside ground, it began to hover. Wings splayed, tail fanned, the raptor hung almost motionless at twice the height of the nearby telegraph line. The blueish grey of its head echoed the frosty sky, its back’s reddish tinge seemed to merge with the setting sun.