Redwings

Yesterday I was pleased to see a Redwing (Turdus iliacus) eating berries in the holly tree. We didn’t see any Redwings last winter and I had been wondering if we would see any this year. Soon I realised there were two birds in the tree and many photos were taken. 

Today there have been regular excursions to the tree by several Redwings – I counted seven in and on it at one time and there may well have been more. Sometimes this small flock perches in the tree gorging berries. 

Occasionally they fly off carrying berries in their beaks as well as in their crops.

The Blackbirds and Wood pigeons have steered clear of the holly during the last couple of days giving the Redwings free range.

The Redwing is a widespread winter migrant in Britain and Ireland. The greatest concentrations are seen in central and southern England and southern Ireland. Redwings arrive in September, leaving again in March or April. Those in Scotland have probably flown from Iceland while those from Scandinavia winter in the south of England and as far south as North Africa and the Mediterranean. Fewer than fifty pairs breed in UK – some sources say fewer than twenty - and there is concern about the decline in numbers.

The Redwing is the smallest of the thrushes, just 21 cm (8½”) long. I couldn’t identify males, females, juveniles – they all looked much the same to me. What I found really fascinating were the sequences that Barry shot of them eating, well, swallowing anyway.  I shot some too, but his are much better.

This looks juicy

 Carefully does it - don't drop it

 

 I can do it - I know I can

Swallow

Gulp! 

. . . and again from the front . . .

 It looks a bit more of a beakful from this angle

 Open wide!

Down the hatch

Much of today has been spent reporting – ‘they’re back’, ‘they’ve gone’, ‘there are four, no, five, six, no, seven’ (voice rising to an excited shriek at seven) We may not see them again but that’s part of the entertainment of amateur bird-watching. I was expecting to see a Sparrowhawk dive into the tree but that didn’t happen. I was glad about that though of course poor Sparrowhawk has to eat too.

Camera Critters #136

Misty Dawn hosts this meme here. Thank you, Misty.

A small family of long-tailed tits frequently visits our garden feeders. Often we hear them before we see them as they call to each other with a high 'tseep'.

 They remind me of shuttlecocks as they flit rapidly about their business.

They have no objection to sharing the food with their larger cousins, the blue tits.

Camera Critters #130 Blue tits

The birds are decked out in their new plumage and feeding enthusiastically before the cold weather sets in.

The blue tits seem quite playful! Here is one attempting an alternative landing, coming in sideways. His friend at the top is looking askance but his other friend just carries on feeding.

This little chap has decided to jump down rather than fly!

Ah, I see now! He was practising so he could jump on his friend!

To see more critters visit Misty Dawn who hosts this weekly meme. Thank you, Misty!

Squadrons of Starlings

It's the time of year when the bird feeders are louder than usual with squabbling Starlings. Swooping squadrons of smart Starlings stream down on scimitar wings and cluster round the fat cakes, shrieking, whistling, chattering, jockeying for position. The newest members of the clan, though capable of feeding themselves, shrilly demand that the adults feed them and the adults oblige. Some of the adults, beautifully attired in iridescent green and purple, gather great gobbets of fat to carry away to offspring perched elsewhere among the trees.

It is rare to see a single Starling and should one individual alight on a feeder and start pecking busily at the food it is soon joined by legions of friends and relatives. Generally they arrive and leave as one screeching unit.

The inexperienced youngsters’ spatial awareness is not fully developed and so collisions with windows are not uncommon. Sometimes, sadly, the young bird breaks its neck and the bright eyes soon fade. At other times it may be dazed or incapacitated for a period ranging from a few minutes to several hours. Last year one juvenile spent several hours on our patio, moving away carefully when we or our dogs drew too close. We put seed within its reach and by evening we were pleased to see it fly away. The next day a young bird flew onto the patio and spent some time there – we thought it was the same one and mused that it had come to thank us for looking after it the previous day.

The following photographs illustrate (some) Starling antics in Spring.

An adult flies in to feed a youngster.

Learning to keep a watchful eye while feeding.

Feed me! Feed me!

Me too! Be fair!

A respite for two adults to feed themselves. The male (on the left) has a blue-based bill. The female's bill is pink-based.

Comings and goings . . .

Landing together . . .

Chattering . . .

Aerial manoeuvres . . .

Other birds and beasts visit the feeding stations - a subject for another day!

Talking to myself again

Teaching has not been the only occasion of my soliloquies. I have spent large chunks of time with small and larger children, my own and my own's own. A constant barrage of 'Why?' from earliest toddledom is followed by years of 'How do you spell . . . ?' and 'What does ?? mean?' and Where's . . . ?' interspersed with my homilies on subjects ranging from the inadvisability of wearing four-inch heels and bare legs in the middle of a cold snap to the wisdom or otherwise of sailing in a Force 9 gale.

There have always been animals around as well, mingling with children of various ages and sizes so of course they must be included in conversations and greeted on returning from outings. I reassure the birds as I set out their food and ask the fish and frogs if all is well in their watery world. The plants and trees are given encouragement and I marvel at the bees and congratulate them on their pollen-collecting skills. I even talk to spiders to ask them to please keep their distance.

There is little wonder then that I talk all the time.

Our children are grown and flown and visit frequently for short periods when everyone talks at once and no-one listens. The dogs and cats listen intently until they have been fed, watered or exercised, then they sleep. I know Barry hears me but often doesn't listen (or register) for he inhabits another planet entirely so usually I am alone, though never lonely.

The advent of the mobile phone has been a blessing for me for now it is completely normal to look as if one is talking to oneself but even thus, it is a give-away when I say enthusiastically, 'Oh, look! Look at those flowers . . . or sheep . . . or shoes' and there is no-one anywhere near me. I can never understand people who say, 'I didn't know I'd lost my voice because I didn't see anyone to talk to.' I would know instantly and then ask myself why I was whispering.

Better than an alarm clock

Round about 5:00 yesterday morning and again this morning I became aware of a creaky croaking outside our bedroom. I had assumed it was one of the crows standing bowing as they're wont to do but it didn't sound quite right so I got up to look out. I carefully, slowly opened the wooden slats of the shutters and there, standing in the pond, was a huge, magnificent heron. It caught the movement and took off, circling the garden before being pursued off the premises, so to speak by a crow (I think). No wonder the fish in our pond have been keeping a low profile recently. Luckily there is plenty of cover for them, the water hyacinths being more than usually rampant this year.

I have never been able to photograph a heron – they are very wary and don't visit on a regular basis or I might be prepared to spend an entire day motionless with camera at the ready. I don't quite know what I'd do with the dogs and cats though! Taking into account the problems to be overcome maybe Barry can devise a method of remote photography. Watch this space – but don't hold your breath!

April Showers Bring May Flowers

Everything is busy in the garden. The birds are exhausting themselves – in some cases the bright courting colours are fading and feathers are looking ragged as parent birds use every daylight hour to feed their demanding young. The Great Spotted Woodpeckers are an exception – they are still drumming from dawn to dusk and remain paintbox fresh.

The last couple of days have been mercurial here in the soft South of the country. The fruit trees blossom bravely in the face of wind and rain and plantlets put outside to benefit from warmth have had to be taken quickly under cover to prevent them being flattened.

A little life

A Collared Dove flew into the holly tree today. I had hoped it would take over the ready-made nest but it didn't remain long. I decided to investigate and discovered the reason for both that and Mr/s C-D sitting ever higher. The eggs had hatched and s/he had been sitting over two squabs. The nestlings are covered in fine yellow down and simply look as though they're sleeping – and I suppose they are, really – forever.

Oh, calamity!

It seems my fears for the Collared Dove family were well-founded. When I went out to check on the nest this morning I discovered it abandoned, lined with a sad heap of quills and soft down while a few feathers caught on the prickly leaves stirred gently in the breeze. In the pond below floated more silky feathers.

Though I could not believe that the eggs were untouched I was nonetheless slightly encouraged when Mr/s C-D came to sit on the nest later in the morning. S/he stayed for some hours and then moved off and waited for a long while, maybe expecting the other parent to return to brooding duties. Eventually s/he flew away and somehow the mournful calling of other doves in the vicinity seemed more pronounced.

Mr and Mrs Collared Dove defend their nest

This morning Mr Crow, seeking fast food, approached the Collared Doves' tree on foot. It must have been about time for the end of a shift for suddenly there were two Doves facing off Mr Crow who didn't give up easily, taking flight only when he saw movement from inside the house.

I'm wondering if the eggs are close to hatching because Mr/s C-D has been close to the tree all day . . . ready for feeding duty or is it that the sitter and the waiter are keeping guard in case Mr Crow returns?

Meanwhile their cousins the Wood Pigeons are playing 'catch me if you can' around the upper branches of the oak trees and the Magpies are flying in with large twigs to reinforce their nests.

The Dunnocks have been dashing about with dizzying speed in and out of the shrubs and on and off the fences while the Green Woodpeckers laugh hysterically and the Great Spotted Woodpeckers drum loudly on the trees, breaking off occasionally to snatch a hearty meal from the fat cake feeders.

I'm quite sure eggs do not increase in size once laid but it does seem that Mr/s C-D is sitting higher on the nest with each succeeding day. I looked carefully today to see if the eggs had hatched but I think it will be quite clear when they have done so, not least because there will be trees full of Magpies and Crows waiting to take advantage. As Crows and Magpies are sworn enemies maybe their energies will be fully occupied in chasing each other away and the squabs will be safe. I fear this will not be the case, however, and that the little family will become a tasty snack.

Goldfinches and Dunnocks . . . and others

Yesterday was officially the first day of British Summer Time and I was delighted to see three Goldfinches on the evergreen honeysuckle. It's been months since any of these brightly feathered little birds visited the garden, even though Niger seed is always available for them, and although they didn't stay long, it was cheering to see them. I shall be watching out to see if they return on this wonderfully fresh green and gold day. They always bring a smile to my face, with their clownish make-up and it's rare to see only one. They seem to enjoy each other's company and feed companionably together, unlike the Starlings, who arrive in noisy crowds to squabble and shriek as they jockey for position on the feeders and then, at an unseen signal, speed away kamikaze style.

Later in the day I noticed a pair of Dunnocks. The female was flirting her tail and fluttering her wings in a winsome way and every time her chosen mate turned away she shifted her position and pointed her wiggling rump at him again. Dunnocks have an interesting sex life. While some are monogamous others are clearly exponents of 'open marriage' and will take many partners. A polygynous male may mate a polyandrous female which has given rise to the mouth-filling adjective polygynandrous. It sounds exhausting but guarantees that the genes are passed on . . . and on . . . and on, though whose offspring is whose must be difficult to determine. However, for the polyandrous female it ensures that there will be plenty of adults available to feed the fledglings since each male will have a vested interest in the well-being of the brood.

A huge crow came onto the patio after feeding on the fish food. I was ready to dash out and defend the Collared Doves but Mr Crow flew straight past the holly tree without a sideways glance, apparently completely indifferent. Maybe he's waiting for the eggs to hatch. Cunning birds, Crows, but I do admire them as they strut about the garden, black intelligent eyes ever watchful. Sometimes one will sit atop one of the arches and bow to our black Labrador – she gazes back, entranced.

In my dreams . . .

Mr and Mrs C-D have invaded my subconscious!

Last night I had a most realistic and upsetting dream. A Magpie had flown into the holly tree, reached into the nest and grabbed a small squab. Mr/s C-D sat on the nest, unable to move. I hurried out and flapped my hands and made 'go away' noises and the Magpie did, with the unfortunate fledgling, only to be replaced by one of his friends or relations who was reaching into the nest and eating the contents of the remaining egg. Other Magpies seemed to be gathering just out of sight and I was faced with the prospect of repeatedly beating off an endless succession of the smartly-apparelled marauders.

Desperately searching for a more efficient means of deterring them I turned away and when I looked back they had gone, to be replaced by a large beautifully marked Song Thrush helping himself to the contents of the nest. Then I woke up.

Mr and Mrs Collared Dove

Yesterday I was wondering if the brooding of the eggs was entirely the responsibility of Mrs Collared Dove. I looked in several of my bird books but couldn't find the information. Today the answer was revealed by the doves themselves. As I watched, one dove flew into the tree and shortly afterwards the other one left the nest and flew away. I'm ridiculously pleased to discover that the raising of their family is a joint effort. Unfortunately, I cannot tell which is male and which female since they dress alike. There has been loud calling coming from the nest. Is it to signal that it's time to change shifts?

There has been more Magpie activity, though not around the C-Ds' home. The Magpies are busily searching for their perfect mates prior to pairing off, and there seems to be some rivalry among the prospective suitors – it was ever thus.

The Great Spotted Woodpeckers are about as well – drumming on the trees, feeding on the fat cakes. Watch out, Mr and Mrs C-D – GSWs are just as much of a threat to your little family as Magpies!

I love Springtime – so much activity, life, freshness. What shall I see tomorrow? Rain and lower temperatures are forecast and wind too, so the butterflies and bees will not be much in evidence but the busy, busy birds will be taking every chance to feed while avoiding the Sparrowhawk.

Nature red in tooth and claw, indeed!

Thieving Magpies

Mrs Collared Dove is still perched on her rather ramshackle nest in the holly tree. Every time I look in her direction her dark eyes are fixed on me. Even at night, when I switch on the outside light to go into the garden, there she sits, still watchful. I had never seen her off her nest until today when she and her mate were chasing off two Magpies. Doubtless they were hoping to go to work on an egg (though not one with a little lion on it!) Mrs C-D settled back quickly but I fear there will be other attempts on her brood.

I love Magpies in their smart attire, so confident and intelligent, the showmen of the crow family. They come to the pond to drink, to feed on fish food and, later on, newly emerged tadpoles. They teeter like tightrope walkers on the hanging bird feeders, their long tails balancing them. They chatter and creak in the sun-dappled trees and gather in noisy convocation. They never fail to make me smile as they swagger about importantly looking for all the world as if they're 'walking the estate.' They are elegant, eye-catching clowns with bright alert dark eyes but when one of their young is kidnapped by a passing crow all the Magpies around – parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends and relations - create a deafening cacophony that continues for hours.

Little things please little minds - further

Our doves are back. The female is dutifully sitting on her nest among the prickly holly leaves.

Yesterday the visiting lilac Burmese was watching from the fence. He has cruel eyes, not like the gentle, soft eyes of the Burmese cats we bred so many years ago. I don't think he'll leap into the holly tree though, however enticing the prey.

Little things please little minds

Today I noticed a collared dove sitting on a rather flimsy nest in the holly tree. As I slid the patio door open another dove high in the oak tree flew out with that characteristic flight call. 'Ah,' I thought, 'diversionary tactics.'

I cannot adequately express how delighted I was to think that a pair of doves had chosen our tree to bring up a family. Mind you, when I went out to retrieve the washing I saw that the nest was bare of birds, devoid of doves, avians were absent so maybe they've found somewhere else to lay their weary eggs.