Disturbed rudely by my alarm, I unzipped the tent, pulled on my jumper and slipped into my boots. It was the last day of the holiday and I was desperate to see that bird. I stoked the fire and strode off.

Taking a different post from normal, I perched on a log and brought out my binoculars. Nothing but a pristine sky.

Shifting my position, a glimpse of gold caught the sun. Eight sharp sticks carrying a furry corpse moved in the sky. And then I saw it. A brown streak soared: the elusive Golden Eagle performing its intricate dance.