Injured Sparrowhawk
Something was fluttering across the track, with the dog in close attendance. "Khan! Leave it!" I shouted, and he stood back while I ran up.
Brown feathers, tail stuck up in the air, ah! A hooked bill! And two eyes, yellow eyes, glaring at me balefully. A tiger could not have surveyed its prey with more deadly intent, and we continued to stare at each other for what seemed an age.
Suddenly, the sparrowhawk broke away and took to flight, but one wing was useless and it only made a few yards before I caught it, folded its wings together and carried it home.