Towards dusk, barely minutes after our arrival home, two Canadas flew low over the house.

As always, they gossiped; as usual, this sounded like muted trumpets!

Brought here more than three centuries ago (as a gift to Charles II), this large species is never a shy communicator.

I listen for their deep voices every evening, usually as dusk approaches, and watch them fly over or close by the house, heading almost due NW on some occasions, probably to a roosting pool not so far away.

There, often on the water all night, they have few natural enemies.

Of other birds, in that same weekend, we saw little variety.

During a two-day round trip of more than 400 miles, we saw few species: jackdaws, rook, and carrion crows were well represented.

So were the hunting kestrels, hovering above the roadside verges, or just beyond, inside the fields, following the quieter side of the hedges.

No flocks of

gulls invested the meadows, and those seen overhead were either silver-backed herring gulls or darker, charcoal-winged lesser black backs.

In all our travels we saw not a single house sparrow!

Visiting one farm a few miles north of Hereford, we found our first swallows of 2002.

This was on April 20, a little late for our first sighting, There were two birds, and they quarrelled bitterly, hovering outside one hole in the wooden eaves of a neat farm building; one of old red sandstone, harder and paler than the more familiar Cumbrian new red sandstone, the old is the common rock of Welsh border country.

Both birds were reminders that others are due to return to the old house - once a "subsistence farm" with little land, where we stayed.

Here, the human occupants are in a quandary.

They love and look forward to the return of the swallows to this ancient site every year.

This time, however, the usual swallow nesting area - inside the battered old end barn - one of red-tiled roof and ancient, rough-split elm planks - must not be used.

The old farm is being extended - which means, among other things, the removal of the ancient wooden building.

The owners of the place have boarded and blocked up all the holes and cracks they can find, but inevitably, they feel sure that the determined swallows will find entrance.

How can they demolish the barn if it contains nesting birds? They built mud cups under the eaves next door - nests on dry, safe sites under the timber overhang outside the building! Here, there is also the strong possibility that any new martin nests may be made of cement; material gathered under the noses of the builders busy with house walling alongside!

In the same broad garden, a solitary goldfinch arrived during our stay, and ignoring us, appeared to find food in the foliage of a newly planted, variegated and gloriously spicy sage bush.

Yet when this was examined immediately after-wards, we could find no trace of any plant pests (such as greenfly) in the sweet smelling leaves.

Nor could we detect any damage, nor any sign of the bird's visit! One

bird we did not see was the spotted flycatcher, an annual nester in a hollow of the old damson tree for the past two years.

These bids are not long-lived - but we continue to hope for their arrival again this year!

In the field next door, where marvellous honey-coloured, bristle-maned Norwegian ponies are trained, the rabbits flourish.

The local coneys here have apparently not been affected by that terrifying disease "HRD" (Haemorhegic Rabbit Disease) which has killed thousands of this species in recent years, the victims being those mainly along the western side of Britain.

These charming pests are too near the house for a gun to be used and, thankfully, the brutal snares once used are now illegal.

A newly-created vegetable section here is surrounded by a four to five foot wire fence.

The base is buried - and folded over - to make (so far!) a coney-proof barrier.

I wonder how long it will remain so?