Fieldfares at Last

The fieldfares are here, at last! Only four, but such a welcome sight it feels like a Christmas blessing. Yesterday I watched a solitary redwing feeding in the same overgrown, but many berried, cotoneaster that the fieldfares are using today.

Outside everywhere is still snow covered, but now it has frozen solid, just to add to the discomfort of our wild neighbors.

Somehow the bottom of the squirrel-proof peanut holder has disappeared so I am again feeding tits from the bird table, which means the pigeons, jays and squirrels eat far more than the little tits ever manage to.

I watched two blackbirds tussling over food on the bird table. One of them was lightly brushed with frost and must have had a very cold perch during the night. I wondered at birds’ metabolism and thought how, if that were us, we would likely have succumbed to hypothermia and maybe died, but here was the black, yellow-billed chap, perky as ever and fighting for his rights amongst the food.

It is very cold outside – the sun rises moon-white each morning into a silvery sky. Yesterday’s sunset was surprisingly red, so perhaps today the sun will shine and gently warm some of the creatures living outside during this freezing spell of weather.

It is 9am. The thin white sunlight brightens the snow on the lawn and in the fields, and deepens the shadows. A pair of squirrels is busy collecting food from the bird table and storing it in the woodpile. A jay sitting in the lower branches of the birch tree watches them. As yet he has made no attempt to sabotage their winter store. My guess is that he is the jay who has already been eating food straight from the bird table and is now marking where his next meal will come from.


A squirrel is sitting fatly – his fur all puffed out – on the bird table. He has eaten his fill, stored much here and there, and is obviously not much interested in the rest of the food other than to protect it from the birds with a view to keeping it for himself.

A skein of Canada geese just flew noisily above the garden. I love the way their calls announce their coming, making it possible to fully enjoy the sight of their overhead flight formation.

A Field near Hertford

On a trip to Reading, near Hertford, we passed a field on the left-hand side, a pretty scene – a small field, surrounded by trees, winter brownish-green grass, and passing through the centre: a stream formed from snow melt and rainfall, wide at the road edge, barely tapering toward the middle and suddenly disappearing – not forming a pond, not narrowing further, just disappearing as if into a black hole. Settled on the edge of this new stream two Canada geese, resting, one head down, the other head held high on long stretched neck, peering curiously around. Beak turned first one way, and then the other.

Dwindling Bird Populations

Over the past forty years, bird populations have plummeted: kestrels and reed bunting by a third; skylarks, goldfinches, yellowhammers and linnets by more than half; yellow wagtails and starlings by nearly three-quarters; and worst of all, turtle doves, tree sparrows, corn buntings and grey partridges have crashed by around 90%.

Crickets

I was heartened to read that while wet weather is not good for crickets, this is offset to some extent by many cricket species having eggs that take two to three years to hatch – effectively sitting out the bad weather years. Apparently, house crickets, which were once only found indoors, are now increasingly found outside in large colonies on landfill sites where they are protected from the cold by the heat from the decaying waste. Worldwide there are 900 species of cricket, but we only have 29 here in England and Wales. Crickets are omnivores feeding on decaying plant material, fungi, seedling plants, and their own dead. Their eggs hatch in spring and one fertile female can produce two thousand offspring.

Squirrel Pair

We again have two squirrels; they are tiny thin timid beasts. I watched them one frosty morning huddled together in the south-facing fork of the pseudo-acacia tree, obviously enjoying the warmth of the sun. It was a frosty morning and the sunshine must have been very welcome.

They have built a dray, high up in the birch tree. So far, most of their day is spent in the malus tree eating the crabapples. The pigeons also feast on these and they are fast depleting, soon there will be none left. No doubt the squirrels will then find our bird table. How long before they become as tame as the others is anyone’s guess.

I threw two plums on the lawn. One of the squirrels found them, and squatting on his haunches, sat until he had eaten one. After washing his hands and face – a delicate procedure and a joy to watch – he picked up the remaining plum in his mouth, carried it to the birch tree, where he climbed high, before traversing almost the length of the branch, and pushing it into a fork, he went off about his business. Often over the next several days, I saw him go and check the plum, without even attempting to eat it. However, one afternoon, I watched as one of the two squirrels, as yet I cannot tell them apart, climbed to the plum, disengaged it from its nook, and carrying it lower down the branch, he sat beside the trunk and ate it.

Friend of the Fox

Yesterday we drove down a very beautiful stretch of road. It is very picturesque and passes through woodland. The trees meet overhead and no matter what time of year, we always enjoy the journey.

Last night, we passed along its length twice: the first time as always taking our time and enjoying its beauty, even in the dark we still find it an attractive road. The second, our return journey last night, was utterly spoiled for us. As we drove gently along, the headlamps picked out a beautiful fox in the road, we slowed even more and delightedly watched it. Unusually the fox didn’t move and so we slowed to almost a standstill. Edging forward, we noticed the reason for the fox’s reticence to leave the road; he was standing by the mangled body of another fox. As we drew level, he stepped off the road and on to the verge and as we slowly passed by he returned to stand by the body of his friend.

Who dares to say animals don’t have feelings? I was incensed recently when I met someone who spoke of foxes in such a derogatory manner and termed them vermin. He keeps chickens for his table, but was upset because a fox had discovered his run and helped himself.

He was not bothered about the chicken either. To him, it was just a meal.

Perhaps the lesson he should learn is to keep his foul more secure.

“Only decent fox is a dead one”, he told me.

Well he might respect them more if he put food out for them at night and watched them. They are quite delightful creatures and we ought to remember like us they get hungry and need to eat – but don’t have a butchers to go to!