Field of Dreams

Harriers quartering the Devon grasslands

- Text and Photographs by Sean Thackwray

My son is now bored with looking for birds and has started drawing pictures of Yoda from his Star Wars book. Clearly it’s time to take a break for lunch. We drive back into the old town where I discover a previously unseen takeaway café, just off the main road. There are two ladies inside: a bubbly, freckled blonde serving at the counter and, behind her, a quietly dignified woman running the kitchen. We mull over the menu and my son says he would like a cheeseburger. The blonde asks, ‘Have you guys tried the Dagwood?’ I tell her we haven’t and she says, ‘You’ve got to have the Dagwood. It’s what’s happening in Devon, baby!’

Not wanting to buck the trend, we take her advice.

A heady aroma of vinegar and griddle-fried meat permeates the Land Rover as we close the doors and head south into the grasslands. I turn left at the Wolwebank sign and pull off the road. The camera comes out of its bag on the back seat and onto my lap. The search continues.

Harriers, in my estimation, are the best flyers of all birds. And of the harriers, Montagu’s Cir­cus pygargus is the champion. I’m not the only one who feels that way. James Macdonald Lockhart, in his delightful book