Crime scene

 

Crime scene

In the woods a pile of feathers indicates that an attack has taken place. There is no body, no blood, just a sad collection of hastily shed plumage, so there is some hope that the victim escaped, shaken but safe. The feathers belonged to a wood pigeon.

These woods are not used for shooting. In all the years we have frequented them, we have heard gunshots only once, so it is pretty certain that it was not a gundog that caused the feathers to fly, so to speak. Gundogs, particularly young ones, dislike picking up wood pigeons because the birds have loose feathers that can fill a dog’s mouth and put them off retrieving. Someone said that the dog looks as though a pillow has exploded in its mouth! With careful training, the reluctance can be overcome.

So, who was the culprit? It may have been a fox or a sparrowhawk or possibly an enthusiastic dog. We will never know, but I, for one, am glad that there was no corpse. Nature may be red in tooth and claw but I prefer not to see too much evidence of that.

A to Z challenge 2023 – O is for . . .

 

A to Z challenge 2023 – O is for . . .

My theme for this challenge is Nature in all much of her wonderful diversity. My posts will reflect the fact that I am resident in the south of England.

All photographs in this post are the property of the writer.

O is for Ornithology

 . . . or, more precisely, a bit of birdwatching, mostly in the garden. If nothing else, it made me go through Lightroom and categorise afresh.

We have had 32 different species in our garden. At one time, the starlings were the most prolific and certainly the noisiest, with their bickering and squabbling.

We enjoy seeing any bird that deigns to visit our garden and they all bring a measure of wonder and delight, so I can’t say that we have favourites – they are all favourites when they appear!    

Since we ceded the freedom of the garden to the cats we have stopped feeding the birds, though we have plans to situate a feeder at the top of a pole on the pond fence. We tried a window bird feeder, but it wasn’t successful. Maybe the watchful cats loudly chittering in close proximity to the window were a deterrent.

Herons have visited several times, attracted by the fish in our pond. They have occasionally feasted well, dropping what they don’t want or have finished with on the ground. They are huge birds but so wary that it is extremely difficult to photograph them. If they discern the slightest movement they fly away immediately, often with a harsh cry.

A rarer incomer has been the sparrowhawk. Again, it is a wary creature, although we did surprise one – and ourselves – one day, strolling along the garden path and chancing upon it as it tore into an unfortunate starling.

The rarest visitor has been a racing pigeon. 

 'You put your right foot in, your right foot out,

In out, in out, shake it all about . . . '

It stayed with us for several days and just as we were trying to work out how to capture it, having no experience with handling birds, it departed.

 Whether it reached its Scottish home loft we never did discover. I hope it did – it was so beautiful, in the gleaming good health that only true athletes display. 

Sharing with a juvenile starling

 

Of Cats and Butterflies and Trees

Of Cats and Butterflies and Trees

Our kittens are growing fast. Still lanky of leg and long of body they are extremely lively and very vocal. Each kitten has adopted a different member of the family though they are all very affectionate and demand a lot of attention from whoever happens to be available for a good purring. Isambard’s favourite person is Barry and Jellicoe favours me. Herschel’s chosen companion is Bertie. Actually, they all like Bertie.

The morning ritual involves the kittens calling as soon as they hear our voices. They do not, as yet, sleep in our bedroom – the dogs deserve a place of sanctuary!

Barry emerges to ecstatic miaous and purrs and then he calls Bertie out. Immediately the kittens flock to our golden boy and rub all round him, curling their tails about his body and pushing their faces against his and Bertie loves it.

Recently we have had weather warm enough to encourage us to open the patio door. Across it there is a mesh screen to allow fresh air in and prevent kittens going out. Soon we shall erect a fence within the garden to enable the little boys access to the Great Outdoors. 

The Purr…fect Cat Fence has been delivered from the States and awaits our endeavours to assemble it. First, though, shrubs and trees in the garden have had to be lopped and trimmed so that adventurous felines do not find a way to escape into the even Greater Outdoors. 

The most drastic operation has involved the slaughter pruning of our holly tree. 

No longer can the starlings and blue tits, blackbirds and thrushes rely on its prickly cover to protect them from the attentions of the sparrowhawk.

In the course of all this woodwork gardening Barry discovered that our garden shredder was not up to the job of reducing the extraneous limbs and branches to mulch and spent several happy hours researching the best machine for the job.  We were surprised when it was delivered to see how big – and heavy – it was. ‘It’s a big bugger, innit?’ we said to each other in our best Mummerset accents. 

Naturally the box it came in had to be explored . . . 

 . . . as did the shredder basket.

It is very efficient and reasonably quiet. We haven’t quite got to the stage of looking for things to cut down so that we can use it but that time is not far off, I suspect.

We shan't see any of these this year! 

I noticed a solitary holly blue butterfly disconsolately circling the remains of the tree, wondering where she was now going to lay her eggs. I hope I’m sure the tree will recover and send forth new green shoots. 

However, visiting redwings will be sorely disappointed when they fly in to feast on holly berries in the winter – there will be none this year.

We are wondering how many times the brothers will fall in the pond. My guess is probably only once, unless they decide they like swimming. The bird feeders will have to be moved to a spot beyond the fence. It means we shall not be able to observe them at quite such close quarters but at least we will remain innocent of putting them on the menu for the boys!

The sun has disappeared again so the fence will remain in its component parts in the garage and the cats will have to remain content with gazing at the garden from the safety of indoors.

I hope the Saga of the Cat Fence will be a short one – I have my doubts, though;-) 

I am linking this post to 'Camera Critters'. Thank you, Misty, for hosting this meme.

Feed me!

Feed me!

May brings an explosion in the garden. Everything burgeons and each day offers fresh delights. The month becomes increasingly noisy as young birds demand that their parents feed them. The parents are on the go from just before break of day until the last vestiges of light have left the sky - they are being worn ragged by their demanding offspring. Feeding several bottomless pits is exhausting and some of the adults are beginning to look rather unkempt, their usually pin neat plumage dishevelled. There is little time to preen when there are so many mouths to feed.

It was flirting my tail like this that got me into trouble in the first place.

Me too!

I'm exhausted - no time some days even to  run a comb through my feathers . . .

. . . but at least my babies say 'Please' and 'Thank you', unlike those rude starling youngsters.

Feed me!

FEED me!!

FEED ME!!!

Say Please . . .

Feed me PLEASE - I'm starving. I'm a starving starling . . .

That's better, dear - now don't gobble.

We have seen blackbirds, goldfinches, nuthatches, coal tits, magpies, blue tits, great tits, greater spotted woodpeckers, wood pigeons, robins and a chaffinch at the feeders.  It’s very unusual to see a chaffinch – they prefer to feed on the ground. The long-tailed tits are noticeable by their absence – no doubt they’ll be along later for they must have young too. The jackdaws have been back to take food from the bird table and the local crows are vigilant and noisy when a red kite soars above their nests, looking for an easy meal.

My youngsters are hungry, too . . .

 . . . and mine  . . .

. . . mine, too . . .

Look right.

Look left.

All clear? Tuck in.

I wait till it's quiet.

Our most conspicuous visitors are the starlings. A few days ago we saw only three or four young birds but in the last couple of days the numbers have proliferated. Yesterday Barry counted forty starlings perched on the arches. They chatter and shriek from early morning until dusk. They enjoy communal feeding on the pergolas and communal bathing in the pond. Watching the harassed adults it’s difficult to ascertain whether the parents feeds their own young or whether they respond to all gaping beaks – I suspect the latter. 

Wood pigeons need food, too. Some chance with all those starlings.

I watched the plump, cheeky starling babies as they alternately preened vigorously and called vociferously. One of them was paying more attention to his plumage than his safety. Good grooming is essential for a bird but he wasn’t looking about as frequently as he should, as, indeed, the adults do. I feared for his welfare. I knew a sparrowhawk would appear on the scene sooner or later and today was the day. He swooped down from the roof and carried off a screaming youngster. Barry was startled when he walked along the garden path a few minutes later to see the sparrowhawk on the ground preparing his feast. We may deplore the depredations of the sparrowhawks but they have young to feed, too.

                         A few soft feathers are all that's left to commemorate a brief existence.

Sparrowhawk!

I was reading Joshua’s post at ‘Vive le Nerd’ wherein he commented on the Rough-legged Hawk he had seen in his garden. It reminded me that I had seen a Sparrowhawk (Accipiter nisus) just before Christmas.

From the corner of my eye I saw a bird fly into the holly tree and watched to see if I could identify it when it emerged. I was excited to see it was a Sparrowhawk. Pleasingly it flew to the top of the nearest arch and posed obligingly for me. I had to photograph it through the (grubby) patio door and managed to get five shots before it took flight.

I rarely see Sparrowhawks. I hear them more often or find the pitiful evidence of their depredations in the garden. It’s not their fault that their diet consists almost exclusively of birds. 

Mainly they eat small birds – 120 different species have been recorded. The smaller males catch birds from titmice up to birds the size of thrushes but the much larger females will prey on birds as large as wood pigeons and magpies. Some have been known to catch bats.

Very rarely they eat insects.

This time the Sparrowhawk went hungry. I’m almost sure it was a male.

Six Word Saturday

It's a windy wet November day
Many of the remaining autumn leaves will be tugged from the branches to join the rest in an unlovely soggy muddy carpet in our sodden garden. The birds will take every brief opportunity to visit the feeders before scurrying back to their places of safety. Can birds scurry? Probably not! Well then, the squirrels will scurry and the birds will . . . NOT. They will dart away, hopefully avoiding the attention of any watching Sparrowhawk.
Periodically the sun attempts to break through but I fear it's fighting a losing battle. The day reflects the sombre mood in our house but that will improve and the weather may not.

Thank you to Cate from 'Show My Face' for initiating and hosting this meme.
To nosey into other people's thoughts please click here.

In the garden, hanging out the clothes

Though it indicates the paucity of my daily life I must confess that one of my small joys is hanging out the washing and then watching it as it dances on the line. Sometimes, of course, it hangs sullenly refusing to dry but even then it attains a wonderful clean smell that no tumble dryer could ever achieve. When I'm in the garden arranging the laundry – socks all marching in the same direction, towels snapped straight and then pegged, shirts and blouses with their sleeves pulled into shape – I relish the fresh air, sometimes by the bucketful, sunshine if I'm lucky and always birds. Yesterday my ear caught the distinctive sound of a distressed Crow. I looked up and saw a Crow chasing a Sparrowhawk. A Sparrowhawk's diet is largely made up of small birds caught on the wing but even a young Crow would be too big for it to catch. Perhaps the Crow was indicating that it had first call on any small birds in the vicinity though I think it's uncommon for Crows to prey on young birds that have left the nest.