Listening for the buzzards

Martha: Yesterday the wild wind blew and the rain came down. Today the wind had blown itself away and the sun was back and warm.
On the way up the hill the green of the path made my eyes shine.
On the top of the hill it was hot for a cat and I panted like a wild tiger, walking in India. I listened. I heard the cuckoo call again and again, and the linnets and the blackbird. I heard the distant wren and an angry pheasant, and the cuckoo answered by the warbling female.
But though the air was still I heard no buzzards call today.