Out on the hill, this particular moorland valley became a favourite of mine and we both hunted here for many years. When the wind blew we could both be in for a treat, I as a spectator and Maria as she delighted in everything the elements could throw at her.

By mid December all the bracken had died and fallen, leaving the hills glowing golden in the winter sunlight.

As the years past the steady northward march of Roe Deer distribution meant that these moorland valleys became home to an ever increasing population. Inevitably Maria was to take an interest in them and from a commanding height she could strike a lethal blow.

If you look closely at this photograph the small black dot is not a fly or a speck of dust on the lens. It is Maria with a six foot wingspan, folding into a stoop from this sort of height and advantage she could rip up fast behind a fleeing fox or roe.