Pine marten may have threatened the local heronry

It seems our ‘domestic’, but still wild, heron, Ron, has ‘gone west’ and we find we miss him, scanning skies, balconies, rooftops and canopies of trees in our local wood (those still standing after the multiple storms) for his familiar, elegant profile cut out of the heavenly blue.

I say ‘gone west’ in the vernacular sense. We’d hoped he might simply have taken a day or two off from his labours collecting half bucketfuls of defrosted sprat from our backyard four times a day, and digesting and regurgitating them for the delectation of his nestlings in their tree-top quarters down the road — or perhaps because bank holiday activity in our quiet village was just too much for him