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Writer's pictureHelen Laycock
May 130 min read

Here's a little glimpse at what can happen when we move into nature's back yard...





STUNNED There is a shot as it is glass-slapped, yellow-thorned beak crumpling into its paper skull. A flaw in a diamond fountain, it ricochets in a dark arc, sinks into a crown of grass, the black mirrors of its eyes waning to cloud. It is still warm, still soft, still, its oiled plumage tipping sunlight across fanned wings. A feathered ghost haunts the pane, its chalked corpse no bigger than an outstretched hand signalling STOP! and just a moment ago, it had the sky.
STUNNED by Helen Laycock

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