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

 

A to Z challenge 2023 – T 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.

T is for Turdus merula (blackbird)

Blackbirds are common across the UK in every terrain, apart from the highest peaks.

The blackbird has a beautiful fluting song and chooses a high point in a tree or on a house to sing, proclaiming its territory. They are particularly noticeable in my area at the end of the day, the mellow golden notes carrying far and wide in the still air.

The male blackbird is all black with golden eyes and bill. Mrs Blackbird and all the little blackbirds are brown with splotches on their breasts and their beaks are a duller yellow-brown. The birds are noticeable for their habit of flicking their tails when alighting on trees or shrubs. Maybe it is an aid to gaining their balance on landing.

Often blackbirds can be seen on the ground, cocking their heads towards the ground, looking as if they’re listening and in fact, that is exactly what they are doing. They can hear movement below the surface of the earth and pull up earthworms to eat. They also eat caterpillars, berries and fruit and can frequently be seen rustling through the undergrowth, flipping leaves over as they search for insects.

Mrs Blackbird is brown

It is said to be a sign of good luck if blackbirds nest near your house, but their colouring also made them a symbol of death, mystery or magic. Shamans considered them spirit messengers and others held them sacred to gods and goddesses in mythology.

In Ireland in the 19^th century, blackbirds were believed to contain the souls of those condemned to remain in purgatory until Judgement Day. When their cries were more than usually shrill, it was said it was the suffering parched souls calling for water.

In England in the 16^th century, pastry cooks and chefs were noted for devising unusual dishes with surprising contents. Thus, ‘Sing a song of sixpence’ may be based on such a pie.

Sing a song of sixpence,

A pocket full of rye

Four and twenty blackbirds

Baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened

The birds began to sing,

Now wasn’t that a dainty dish

To set before the King?

 

The King was in his counting house.

Counting out his money,

The Queen was in the parlour

Eating bread and honey,

The maid was in the garden

Hanging out the clothes,

When down flew a blackbird

And pecked off her nose.

 

Hearing all the commotion,

Little Jenny Wren

Flew down into the garden

And stuck it on again.

The last verse was added later to make the tale more palatable.

Whether such a pie was ever served has fired many imaginations and plausible and implausible explanations, but it is true that in Tudor times interesting things were put inside pie crusts. The custom continued into the 17th century - see Jeffrey Hudson. 

 

A lovely morning surprise!

  Herschel snoozes

   It was early Saturday morning and we were enjoying a leisurely lie-in, idly watching rugby and occasionally dozing off. Susannah had taken Frankie to his swimming lesson and then carried on to her gym class.

Bertie  and Jellicoe share a bed. He couldn't be a hunter, could he?

Bertie and Roxy were stretched out on our bed, joined from time to time by Herschel and Jellicoe. Isambard was lying on my legs so naturally I couldn’t get up – it’s very bad manners to disturb a cat. Jenna and Gus were snoozing in their beds.

We could hear sounds of cats playing. At least Solomon and Lenny weren’t screaming at each other so all was peaceful and there was no urgency for us to get up and proceed with the day. Susannah returned and there was an exclamation of disbelief and horror as she realised she had trodden on a dead but still pliant wood pigeon.

‘You’ve got to see this,’ she said so we duly arose. The hall was a mass of feathers surrounding a defunct avian. The scene in the garden of the capture and possibly the execution  was clearly demarcated by a sufficient number of feathers to make us believe there might have been more than one casualty. How can one bird have so many feathers? Still, as the old tongue twister has it, 'There are forty thousand feathers on a thrush' so there must be at least that number on a wood pigeon. I can understand why Labradors dislike picking up pigeons – all those feathers coming loose.

Not quite the remains of the day  . . .

After clearing up (We now have a clear idea of the colour of a pigeon blood ruby) we set about using our deductive skills to determine the culprit. We thought about Susannah’s cats. Solomon is little and likes catching dragonflies. 

Solomon

Could it have been Lenny? Possibly. He may have lain on the poor bird. Lenny is ‘plump’ and lazy and limits his hunting exploits to moths.

Lenny

It could not have been Isambard as he was pinning down my legs and in any case is not keen on leaving the company either of us or the dogs. 

Isambard watching the fish

Herschel caught a squirrel not long after he was given the freedom of the garden but is not given to excessive hunting. We concluded it was probably Jellicoe. He watches the birds more than the others and so far this year he has killed a rat, a field mouse, a dunnock and a wood pigeon. He also caught a blackbird but it escaped. So, he’s not the most prolific of killers but he does his best, sadly.

What is this?'

Our garden used to be busy with birds, particularly at this time of year when adults are feeding their young, but word seems to have got around in the bird fraternity that it is a no-go area. While we miss seeing them we are glad they no longer frequent our feeders. It is a small price to pay for the joy of seeing our elegant felines prowling through the shrubs, watching the fish in the pond or sunning themselves.

Fish shall safely swim . . .

England in late May 2016

As ever the weather is variable – warm sunshine one day, heavy rain and hail the next. Despite the uncertainty Mother Nature continues unperturbed, showing off her wondrous beauties to those who care to look.

The bird feeders need constant replenishment as myriads of starlings descend, whistling and shrieking and squabbling, each trying to garner the greatest amount of food. The young starlings, milk chocolate in colour with dark eyes, clamour to be fed though they are entirely capable of feeding themselves. 

It is rare to see a solitary starling – they are social creatures and there is definitely safety in numbers though one fell foul of a magpie recently and was dispatched in masterly fashion.

Its cries were piteous to hear but all wild creatures have young to feed. The sparrowhawk, whose diet consists almost exclusively of small birds, watches from a safe distance, choosing its moment to swoop down and capture a meal.

The collared doves share the feeder with the starlings but see them off if they approach too closely. Wood pigeons balance precariously, spreading their wings to compensate for their unwieldiness. At this time of year even robins and blackbirds and thrushes come to the feeders though they prefer to eat on the ground. 

A black cap darts in and away again . . .

. . . and the titmice seize their opportunities when the starlings vacate the fat cakes. 

Magpies are opportunistic and feed where they can. They wait and watch until the pond fish are fed then fly down to enjoy an alternative feast of floating fish sticks.

Meanwhile a red kite soars gracefully overhead.

The fish have been spawning for some time and expend considerable energy trying to ensure their genes are passed on. Hopefully some of the eggs will survive and develop.

The early spring flowers are fading now – there are still a few bluebells and violets and forget-me-nots. Herb robert grows in abundance and flowers throughout spring and summer and well into autumn. It is a weed but so cheerful and pretty that it seems harsh to treat it as an unwelcome intruder and root out every sign of it.

The fruit blossom has set and it looks as if there will be a good harvest of apples, pears, cherries and blueberries, if the birds (or Frankie) don’t get to them first.

Choisya ternata (Mexican orange blossom) has bloomed beautifully and as it begins to wane the ceanothus is ready to burst into flower.

In gardens and woods rhododendrons are aflame with colour. 

Though they can be a bit of a woodland thug and have to be restrained it is good to see the purple glowing in the sunshine.

May is also the mating month for ladybirds. 

Judging by the number in our garden I’m wondering if there will be a glut of aphids this year. In similar vein I have noticed a great deal of blossom on pyracantha and holly – does this mean a hard winter ahead? I think that’s probably myth . . .

Another kind of ladybird . . . last year, 2015 . . .

 . . . and this year, 2016 . . . faded but still smiling.

I saw a mouse - where? Not on the stair . . .

Mice - by Rose Fyleman 

I think mice
are rather nice.
Their tails are long,
Their faces small,
They haven't any
Chins at all.

Their ears are pink,
Their teeth are white.
They run around
The house at night.

They nibble things
They shouldn't touch
And no one seems
To like them much.

But I think mice
are nice.

I agree with Rose Fyleman that mice are nice though I prefer them out of the house rather than in it. 

Yesterday Barry was in the conservatory photographing birds and making short videos of them. As I watched the on-going display a movement caught the corner of my eye and there it was – a field mouse. 

We were pleased to see it because rats kill mice and its presence means that there are probably no rats in the vicinity (they’ve all travelled to London to visit Bethan and Robert)

It moved very quickly – speed is of the essence when you’re a tiny being, around 18 centimetres long from tip of nose to end of tail. The hose pipe gives some perspective. We think it was a Yellow-necked mouse (Apodemus flavicollis) but cannot be absolutely sure since it didn’t stand on its hind legs and display its chest. It didn’t stay long for its photo shoot and we were lucky to see it at all as it is largely nocturnal, the prey of owls and cats.

Meanwhile the birds carried on feeding, oblivious to the tiny mammal beneath them dining on the crumbs of fat cast off by their probing beaks. 

Most of the birds wanted to display their nether regions, the newly repainted plumage glowing to attract a mate.

Some, like this starling, with his winter spots giving way to the glorious iridescence of spring finery . . . 

 . . . appeared to spot the little mouse and wonder what it was up to. 

The female blackbird feasted on holly berries while her would-be mate gorged pyracantha.

Coal tit watched warily from the Nectarine – often chased away by blue tits, his chance would come.

 Long-tailed tits swooped and dipped their way to the feeders . . .

. . . and a great spotted woodpecker, fresh from the beauty salon, displayed her scarlet underside but forbore to show her face.

blue's coloured thursdays - black

This colour-linked meme is challenging and fun. Thank you to the organiser! To see more for this week's blacks please click here.

A tapestry of Toucans, made by my late mother

A Jackdaw stamping about on the bird table

A Magpie about to land on the bird feeder

Another Magpie enjoying the fat cake

 Crows visit the feeders too . . .

. . . and so do Blackbirds . . .

. . . and Great Spotted Woodpeckers . . .

. . . but the Labradors prefer different treats!