“So here we stand in quieter fields, where once the chorus thrived,
Remembering a richer world, that barely now survives,
And wonder if, in chasing dreams of how things used to be,
We’ve lost the fragile present, to a blind ideology”
Please Press Play Above And Follow Along With The Poem Below.
For thirty years our garden sang with wings in every tree,
A living choir of chirps and flight, wild, bright diversity,
We watched them dart through morning light, through dusk’s soft amber glow,
And never thought the day would come when they would cease to show.
The feeders filled, the hedges stirred, each branch a busy stage,
A timeless dance of feathered life, unchanged from age to age,
We took it all for granted then, those fragile, fleeting things,
The quiet magic carried on in tiny beating wings.
But now the silence lingers where the melodies once grew,
A ghost of what our garden was, a fading, empty view,
A wren appears, a robin too, a blackbird now and then,
But nothing like the bustling world we used to witness then.
The air feels wide, unsettling, as though something has changed,
The balance tipped, the harmony of nature rearranged,
For high above, in circling packs that wheel and cry and glide,
The red kites rule the open sky with sweeping wings so wide.
Ten or twelve in lazy loops, they hover, drift, and stare,
A shadow fleet that claims the blue and dominates the air,
We’re told they pose no danger, just scavengers at best,
That only lifeless flesh would ever draw their hunting quest.
But nature shifts in subtle ways no handbook can contain,
Adapted beaks and sharper eyes rewrite survival’s chain,
Like squirrels feasting cheekily on biscuits, sweet and neat,
The rules evolve, and suddenly all living things are meat.
A picnic in the sunlight, children laughing on the grass,
A peaceful, simple moment that should gently come to pass,
Yet from the sky a sudden swoop, a rush of wind and fright,
A grazing wing, a scream, a shock beneath that looming kite.
They hadn’t meat nor scraps to lure, just cake and crumbs to share,
Yet still it came, too close, too fast, a menace in the air,
And leaves us asking quietly what’s changed, what’s gone askew,
When once-safe skies feel watchful now with every circling view.
And whispers grow of future plans, of creatures to restore,
Of beavers shaping waterways and wolves returned once more,
But where’s the thought for what exists, for what may be displaced,
When every grand “solution” leaves another problem faced?
For roads would halt, for towns would pause, for habitats held dear,
Yet smaller lives are brushed aside when bigger schemes appear,
And those who guide these visions grand, with confidence proclaim,
May not be there to face the cost or shoulder any blame.
So here we stand in quieter fields, where once the chorus thrived,
Remembering a richer world, that barely now survives,
And wonder if, in chasing dreams of how things used to be,
We’ve lost the fragile present, to a blind ideology.
Copyright © Ven Bunce 2026
For decades, our garden felt like a small, living sanctuary. It wasn’t just a patch of green, but a thriving ecosystem alive with birdsong and movement. Robins, wrens, blackbirds, sparrows—each played their part in a daily rhythm we barely noticed at the time. It felt constant, dependable. In hindsight, it was something quietly extraordinary.
In recent years, that richness has faded. The trees and hedges still stand, but the life within them has thinned dramatically. Now, sightings of familiar garden birds are rare enough to feel like events rather than the norm. The absence is striking—not loud, but deeply noticeable.
At the same time, a different presence has taken hold. High above, groups of red kites circle in numbers, dominating the skyline. Conservation success stories often celebrate their return, and rightly so. Yet from the ground, the picture feels more complicated. Nature does not remain static; behaviours shift, ecosystems adjust, and balances change in ways that aren’t always predictable.
A recent close encounter during a simple family picnic brought that tension into sharp focus. What should have been an ordinary moment instead felt unsettling, raising questions about how these changes are playing out in everyday life.
This isn’t an argument against conservation, but perhaps a call for reflection. Reintroducing species and restoring habitats are important goals—but they are not without consequence. As we shape the future of our environment, it’s worth asking: are we paying enough attention to the subtle, local impacts along the way?
Please Comment Below – And Check Out The Other Posts & Pages On This Blog – Thank You ….Ven.
.