Hover on the Wind

Hover on the wind, little fire-winged king,

Frozen in the sky while the wide world spins,

Eyes that see what we’ll never know,

In ultraviolet trails you follow your road,

Over field and fence and motorway line,

You hang in the air like a living sign,

Oh hover on the wind, sharp talon and breast,

You are Europe’s watching falcon — the Common Kestrel.

Verse 1

Across the whole of Europe you are known,

From coastal cliffs to farms of stone,

Falco tinnunculus, hunter by name,

A small fierce falcon built for the chase,

You hunt by daylight, never in the dark,

Reading the fields like a living map,

Roadside posts become your throne,

A pause before the strike, then down you’re thrown.

Chorus

Hover on the wind, little fire-winged king,

Frozen in the sky while the wide world spins,

Eyes that see what we’ll never know,

In ultraviolet trails you follow your road,

Over field and fence and motorway line,

You hang in the air like a living sign,

Oh hover on the wind, sharp talon and breast,

You are Europe’s watching falcon — the Common Kestrel.

Verse 2

Your hover is not just a graceful show,

It’s physics and instinct working low,

With rapid wings and a fanned-out tail,

You cancel the wind and refuse to sail,

Below you, voles run hidden and fast,

But your eyes see the trails they leave in the grass,

In ultraviolet, their scent marks glow,

A secret map that only you know.

Verse 3

Rust-red back and spotted frame,

The male wears blue like a silver flame,

Slate-grey head and shining tail,

While the female’s bars are dark and pale,

She’s larger and heavier, built for the nest,

While the male brings food on tireless quest,

Two hunters bound by sky and ground,

In perfect roles when spring comes round.

Chorus

Hover on the wind, little fire-winged king,

Frozen in the sky while the wide world spins,

Eyes that see what we’ll never know,

In ultraviolet trails you follow your road,

Over field and fence and motorway line,

You hang in the air like a living sign,

Oh hover on the wind, sharp talon and breast,

You are Europe’s watching falcon — the Common Kestrel.

Verse 4

You build no nest with twig or thread,

You borrow instead from the lives long fled,

Old crow’s homes and cliff-side stone,

Church towers, quarries, walls of bone,

And when we raise boxes high and still,

You learn our shapes and use them at will,

From ancient rock to metal beam,

You bridge the wild and the in-between.

Verse 5

The clutch is laid in speckled white,

Three to five in the soft spring light,

The female warms them through sun and rain,

While the male hunts over field and plain,

In just one month the chicks break free,

From helpless fluff to hunting tree,

And several weeks from their first small flight,

They leave the nest for the open sky.

Chorus

Hover on the wind, little fire-winged king,

Frozen in the sky while the wide world spins,

Eyes that see what we’ll never know,

In ultraviolet trails you follow your road,

Over field and fence and motorway line,

You hang in the air like a living sign,

Oh hover on the wind, sharp talon and breast,

You are Europe’s watching falcon — the Common Kestrel.

Verse 6

Voles are the heartbeat of your life,

Their rise and fall is your hidden tide,

In years they boom, your chicks all thrive,

In years they crash, your numbers dive,

Not war nor storm nor winged disease,

But tiny teeth in the roots of trees,

Decide the fate of falcons bold,

Written in fur beneath the soil.

Verse 7

Once poisoned hard by chemicals deep,

The twentieth century made you weep,

But the ban was cast and the sky grew clean,

And slowly you returned to fields once green,

Yet modern roads and farmland bare,

Still test your grip on thinning air,

You live beside us, close and near,

A wild small flame we almost lose each year.

Final Chorus (Extended)

So hover on the wind, little fire-winged king,

Balance the world on trembling wings,

From winter frost to summer’s fire,

You hold the line between life and wire,

Above our cities, fields, and seas,

You teach the sky how to stand still with ease,

Oh hover on the wind, sharp talon and breast,

Long live the watcher of Europe’s west,

Hover on the wind, stay fierce, stay wild,

Sky-born hunter, the kestrel child.