A bird in the . . .

 . . . conservatory is worth seeing.

 On Sunday evening a confused, new member of the garden avian community flew indoors. There are many plants on the windowsills and floor, enough to fool an inexperienced fledgling into thinking it’s found a rare jungle.

Herschel alerted Barry to the incomer, and he and Jellicoe were summarily hustled into the kitchen. As Barry searched for the elusive chick, wondering if his eyes had been playing tricks on him, Herschel suddenly signalled. Sure enough, a small bird was fluttering in one of the plant trays. It looked as if it was having a dip, though I suspect it was too tense to consider relaxing in a tepid bath, and was literally in a flap!

We made sure the external door was open and the internal door locked and left the little bird to its own devices, hoping it would find its way out without too much stress. Meanwhile, the cats were forbidden the freedom of the conservatory.

We discovered another, larger bird on the conservatory roof. A woodpigeon had met its end there. It looks just as if it is resting. In a sense, I suppose it is. It was an odd place for it to be, far from the gutter or the apex, with no place to perch.

 We rarely find dead birds and it’s sad to see something that was once so vibrant now still and lifeless.

 

 

A white feather

 

A white feather

We have many birds, large and small, flying over our garden, or settling onto branches to pick off insects or developing fruit. Sometimes we find a broken eggshell on the ground, but we have rarely seen a dead bird, apart from a starling that had been caught by a sparrowhawk and another starling that had flown into the patio doors and killed itself.

Similarly, we do not often see feathers, and those we have found have come from wood pigeons or magpies. I found the feather above on the path this week. It’s small, only 5 cms (just under 2")     

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I was interested in looking at the intricate structure of the feather. I knew of the quill, of course, but didn’t know the names of any of the other parts. I don’t think the quill of this feather could be used for writing by anyone other than a fairy.

During the First World War (1914-1918) men in Britain who had not enlisted were given a white feather to imply cowardice. This was in an attempt to make them sign up through shame rather than patriotism. Shockingly, from the perspective of the 21^st century, the suffragette movement promoted the white feather movement.

Serving soldiers sometimes found themselves being presented with a white feather when they were home on leave. Other men, who had volunteered but been rejected on grounds of ill-health or disability, were similarly discriminated against.

A white feather to denote lack of bravery originated in the late 1700s, though in that case it was more to indicate a lack of proper breeding,

From Wikipedia: 

The OED cites A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1785), in which lexicographer Francis Grose wrote "White feather, he has a white feather, he is a coward, an allusion to a game cock, where having a white feather, is a proof he is not of the true game breed". This was in the context of cockfighting, a common entertainment in Georgian England.

The white feather was used again in the Second World War (1939-1945) for the same purpose.

However, the white feather has also been used to symbolise excellence, and is used in the United States armed forces to recognise extreme bravery.

It is also worn as a mark of resistance without violence. In the late nineteenth century, it was used by the Maori spiritual leader, Te Whiti o Rongomai III (c1832-1907)

There is an unverified story from 1775 that a tribe of warring Indians confronted a group of Quakers, in a New York Friends’ meeting house. The Quakers did not attempt to run away, but sat quietly. When the Indian chief entered the meeting and discovered that the Quakers had no weapons, he claimed them as friends. As he left, he took a white feather from an arrow in his quiver and put it on the door as a sign that the building and its occupants were not to be harmed.

A dancing woodpigeon?

I’ve just spotted the lame woodpigeon on the bridge over the pond. I first saw her (I don’t know the gender, obviously, since males and females dress alike, but to me this bird is a female) a couple of days ago, hobbling across the gymnasium roof. She can fly perfectly well and she’s not limping heavily. She’s eating and drinking, preening and courting, so I think she will survive.

I know how she hurt her foot – or is it her leg? I know, because I did the same thing so next New Year’s Eve she and I will resist the urge to dance in high heels – well, all right, I’ll resist the high heels! I mean, a woodpigeon in high heels – whatever next? 

Dancing the night away is wonderful, being transported in the moment, not thinking of the morrow – we’re too old  wise for all that, Mrs Woodpigeon and me.

Camera Critters #140, Pet Pride

I’m minding my own business when a woodpigeon lands clumsily on the pyracantha. I am instantly alert. Goody! I can enjoy one of my favourite hobbies – bird-watching.

(Mrs H: Oh dear! He does need to go on a diet - just look at that tiger tummy!)

I heard that!  Anyway, if I lean a little more to the right I’ll get a better view. Gus isn’t at all interested. I expect that’s because he’s a Labrador and only takes notice if he’s expected to pick up.

I‘m climbing carefully up the back of the settee. That greedy pigeon’s so busy scoffing all the berries it hasn’t seen me.

(Mrs H: You’re quite hard to miss, too!)

Harrumph! Now I’m sitting up I can see much more clearly. It’s a lovely plump bird – doesn’t look as if it needs much feeding up.

(Mrs H: Hark who’s talking! Pot, kettle and black spring to mind.)

So rude!! Wait - what’s it doing now?

It dropped a berry. Clumsy!

I’m getting very excited now, lashing my tail. Let me at it – I’ll give it what for!

 If I tried really hard I’m sure I could pass through this glass. SuperCat!

 Oh! It’s flown away . . .

. . . or did it? Just checking.

Yep – definitely gone. Ho hum – when’s supper?

(Mrs H: Winston has kindly agreed to allow me to share this with Camera Critters and Pet Pride and thanks Misty Dawn and Bozo and his human for organising these memes.)

ABC Wednesday - S is for Strike

Thanks go to Denise Nesbitt and her Stalwart Squad who organise and host this weekly meme. Click here for more Ss.

Just resting?

One day last week a starling flew into our patio door. It’s unusual at this time of year – generally it’s young, inexperienced spring birds that misjudge the angle at which they need to fly to clear the house.

Bird strike feather imprint on patio glass. I've enhanced it to make the print clearer

Often the birds are just stunned and after twenty minutes, sometimes longer, they have regained their senses and fly off to join their cacophonous friends and relations. Sadly this bird died instantly. We didn’t clear it away immediately and the dogs took no notice of it at all. The next morning the little corpse had disappeared – a ready meal for a passing fox, no doubt.

This morning we had two bird strikes. The first was a woodpigeon that hit the glass and rebounded with no harm but hurt pride and a sense of foolishness. The second was a starling. It, too, bounced off the door and landed on the garden bench where it lay motionless. It’s common for birds to be dazed and take time to recover but this was not to be the case for this little creature. No more would it peck hungrily at the fat cakes or drink from the pond or squabble like a small child with the rest of its flock. No longer would the sun catch its glossy feathers or silhouette it against the sky as it flew swiftly away.

Wing feathers

This is an adult in spotted winter plumage. The feathers are edged in orange-buff 

The blue-based bill indicates that it is a male. Females' bills are pink-based.

Just look at his smart feathery knee breeches . . . 

. . . and his beautiful square tail

It's sad to think that this young fellow will not glory in his green and purple sheened black spring apparel.

Starlings are not exotic but for me they have a beauty and fascination all their own. They are entertaining, gregarious, busy birds and I delight in their antics and their noisy conversations. 

ABC Wednesday W is for Wondering and Worrying

Thank you to Denise Nesbitt and her Willing Workers Who organise and host this Weekly meme. To see more Ws please click here.

Since early Monday morning this Scottish racing pigeon has been feeding and drinking several times a day in our garden.

She seems undisturbed by the presence of other birds. This young starling is drinking, lifting its beak to swallow. Pigeons and doves don't need to do this and so they can drink continuously.

One foot in, one foot out! Our dogs do this with their food bowls to stop them slipping. Perhaps she's doing the same thing.

I think Woodpigeons are handsome birds but I have to admit they'd come second in a beauty contest with a homing pigeon.

I've read that stray racing pigeons Will feed and rest and then resume their journey after a couple of days. This pigeon is Worrying me now. She has been here for three days. She has eaten heartily and drunk the fresh water I put out daily for the birds. I know she can fly and I saw her preening her feathers this afternoon. The advice is to capture strays and put them in a safe container, like a cat carrier, but this bird sits on our roof  and basks in the sun and When she's feeding she's looking around Warily every few seconds, though she seems less Worried With each passing day. What is really Worrying me, though, is that the Woodpigeons are getting bolder. Last evening two of them were tentatively pecking at her as all three gobbled seed. She didn't seem concerned, didn't attempt to retaliate and calmly carried on eating.

If she's still about tomorrow I'll contact the Pigeon Fancy and ask for advice. Maybe she's decided she likes it here - free food and no races!

A Scottish visitor

When I glanced blearily and wearily into the garden early yesterday morning I noticed a pigeon busily feeding. It took a little while for my sleep-deprived brain to recognise that there was something different in the appearance of this bird.

It was the same size as a woodpigeon but that has a grey back and this pigeon's back was pale grey with two broad, long black bars across its wings. I began to think it was a rock dove. Though the white 'shield' over its beak was too prominent for it to be a pure-bred dove – increasingly rare, apart from some areas of northwest Europe - its colouring and patterning were perfect. After observing her for a time (I decided this bird might be a female – Barry asked if it was because she had a big bottom!) the realisation dawned that this might be a homing or racing pigeon and sure enough, when I focused on her legs I saw she was wearing two rings – a green one on the left leg and a white one on the right.

Our homing pigeon came to the bird feeders several times giving us plenty of photo opportunities. When I looked closely at the photographs Barry had taken I was able to identify her as a Scot! Her number was SU04 NE 757.

The local woodpigeons were rather perturbed by the interloper and gave her plenty of time and space to sate her hunger and thirst.

If a homing pigeon gets lost it will sometimes seek shelter near a house or garden so that it has an opportunity to rest and feed before continuing its journey. If it is still around after a day or two there is a stray pigeon service – one such is 'Pigeon Force Couriers' – that will collect a pigeon that's flown off-course and return it to its loft if it comes from a distant location, like our visitor. So, if this beautiful bird is still with us tomorrow we have the job of capturing her! If we can accomplish that she will apparently be perfectly happy in a cat carrier. Racing pigeons are accustomed to travelling with others in wicker baskets to the starting point of their races.

She has visited the feeders twice today and has also spent a long time on the roof ridge, basking and dozing in the sun. She really is a very pretty bird and looks fit and healthy so I'm hoping she will resume her journey and reach her home without attack by sparrowhawk. I suppose we will never know if she arrives safely – sigh!
Pigeon racing is very popular around the world. It is banned in Chicago!