Shadows in the Cotswolds Read Online Free PDF

the way at first, but finally she got what she wanted, with the solid square-towered church clearly to be seen.
    The town, evidently, was on reasonably level ground, with a considerable escarpment behind it, which after some difficulty she concluded had to be to the east, despite the fact that Winchcombe lay on the very western edge of the Cotswolds. It was not in a bowl, like Blockley or Cranham; instead it had been arranged in the valley caused by the river that she had already realised must have been important, from the number of times the word ‘mill’ appeared on street names. 
    The church stood protectively above the jumbled houses, like a shepherd with his sheep, she fancied. The colours were muted greens and greys, and from such a distance it was easy to perceive houses and trees as much the same in terms of their harmonious place in the picture. The town was inconspicuous, unassuming. It made no brash claims, and in the overcast light there were no unnatural flashes of sunshine on glass or metal.
    It gave her an overview that she was pleased to have. However important Winchcombe might have been in the past, it was now a tucked-away little town, with no major roads passing through, no claims to power. It was clean and tidy and timeless, and it sold antiques. The woods were full of birds, and the houses were all quite effortlessly individual.
    ‘We like Winchcombe,’ she told the dog, which had come to her side after nosing idly in some clumps of long grass.

    Later, she took the dog to the bird hide and sat watching a selection of finches picking delicately at the sunflower hearts on their feeding station. She could recognise chaffinches, both male and female, quite easily, and waited in the hope of seeing the colourful goldfinch again. Instead there were a dozen or more blue tits, and something that could only be a greenfinch. A slender little brown bird flitted amongst the branches that was neither a wren nor a sparrow,and brought Thea to an agony of self-reproach at her ignorance. The birds were certainly very entertaining, as they followed a complex dance from tree to table and back again, the little tits so quick and acrobatic amongst the bigger species. According to Oliver’s poster there should also be bullfinches and siskins, and possibly even hawfinches and redpolls. She began to grasp how exciting it could be to lure the rarer species into your garden, with the right kind of food and a careful lack of disturbance. She noticed that there were at least three distinct sorts of tits, where she had initially bundled them all under the single heading of blue tit. Hepzie lay peacefully on the rough earth floor, as her mistress indulged her new interest.
    It would be even better, she guessed, in the early morning. Birds were at their most lively at dawn – weren’t they? There had to be a great many more species out there in the trees; some preferring fat and others seeking seeds. Where were the robins and wrens; thrushes and sparrows? As she mentally listed all the birds she could recall, there was a flurry at the seed table and a flash of red. When she looked properly, there was a sharp-beaked visitor with a comical red skullcap. Anybody could see it was a woodpecker, but Thea was sure she had never seen one so close up before.
    It was plainly very nervous, darting rapid glances at the busy blue tits, as well as swivelling to check its back. It was almost too frightened to snatch asunflower heart, but it remained long enough for a comprehensive inspection. Its front was a soft-looking beige, with a splash of red near the tail. The red was more suited to something much more exotic – like a parrot. Far from the more muted orangey-red of the robin, it was pure scarlet and thus surprisingly exciting. Even without the red, its black and white back was dramatic. ‘Ah,’ she breathed happily. ‘What a beauty!’
    As well as the finch poster, Oliver had left a large colourful
Birds of Britain
book on the table