How Not to Feed a Blackbird

The first snowdrops, iris and aconites are in bloom. I have watched a blackbird, who has for the past three years lived in the ivy and honeysuckle covering fallen pear tree. She has become very tame. As soon as I appear at the window she flies across and waits for currants to be thrown for her. Should I already have a handful of peanuts ready to place on the outer window ledge, for the various tits, she will fly to the ledge and sit there enjoying a peanut feast.

Three days ago I baked an extra potato and cutting it in half, threw it on the lawn. Of course, she was the first one there and a few minutes later, on hearing the screech of the blackbird, I ran back to the window to see a sparrow hawk cloaked over her. There was nothing I could do, but try to learn from it. I felt very sad and determined that in future I would throw food into the undergrowth to reduce the chance of this happening again.

The Barn Owl

It was dark when I realized the washing was still on the line. I put on my coat and went outside. The sun was setting, pink drifts crossed the sky and on the horizon there was a fierce orange-red glow. I stood watching. It was cold and growing darker by the minute, but the sunset held me there. It was so quiet and I felt peaceful and at one with the world. Suddenly, out of the utter stillness of the night came a shriek. Although I had never heard the sound before I knew from reading what it was – a barn owl. I looked out across the fields, but could see nothing.

There are no barn owls in the area. How could I have heard one? Fifteen to twenty years ago two were released locally, but after a few days, were never seen again. I hastened indoors to tell Mike.

The next afternoon about 4:30pm we were down by the river admiring the rafts of golden yellow and orange leaves drifting by when we were delighted to see a kingfisher not once or twice, but five times, and the last time not one but two kingfishers. We were thrilled.

We turned our attention to a nearby stretch of grass and watched two bats hawking. After ten minutes we decided to go home, but as we turned our eyes swept the field to our left where we were amazed to see, like a ghostly apparition, a barn owl quartering it. Spellbound, we watched him flying low, skimming the long grass, back and forth, from side to side. Once he landed briefly in a tree only to soon return and continue his hunting. We looked at each other, huge grins spread across our faces – so we do have at least one barn owl in the area. It was a rare and magical find for both of us.

The river has yielded our best times this autumn: hazelnuts to eat, sloes to make sloe gin, conkers to gather and admire, berries and autumn leaves to draw, so many creatures to enjoy, and a chance riverboat trip complete with a glass of wine thanks to a friendly stranger. Long live the river!

Of Weasels and Amphibians

The weasel is back. We had a happy half hour watching him running and cavorting around the lawn. We know he will decimate the mole, vole and shrew population, but as always, they will rebuild again. During the last week our fish population was halved in number. We know it was not the heron this time because no oily film was left on the water. So we conclude it was the weasel. We have often watched him in the past “playing” around the pond, but have never seen evidence of him catching fish either for play or feeding.

Talking of the pond, for the last twenty years, we have tried to introduce amphibians into the garden, always unsuccessfully despite countless buckets of frog and toad spawn being emptied into the pond. However, five weeks ago, I chanced to see a newt in the pond, which was very exciting. I rushed off to ring my grandson with the news. I haven’t seen the newt since, but it is enough to know he is there.

Last week we were clearing the garage and were surprised to find a medium-sized toad crawling about. He clearly dines on the myriad flies, spiders and snails who share his abode. Two days later, my grandson who is staying with us reporting seeing an enormous toad on the patio. No frogs yet, but maybe soon.

Ladybirds

Ladybirds are probably the only beetle most people will happily handle. Worldwide there are 3000 species, but only 44 recorded in Britain. This weekend I have been delighted to see swarms of ladybirds in the garden. The walls of the bungalow were decorated with hundreds of these tiny beetles, which I have been recording. So far I have found 22 varieties. Since there is such diversity I suspect they interbreed very successfully. When attacked they exude a foul tasting fluid, which puts birds off.

Many years ago they were used as folk remedies for colic, toothache and measles. Also there is that well-known ladybird nursery rhyme.

They are a valuable asset to our gardens due to their voracious appetite for many garden pests: aphids, scale insects, mealy bugs, mites and thunder-bugs. They have also been known to feed on each other.

I fear many ladybirds are killed at their larval stage simply because people don’t recognise them, which is a great pity.

The variety in these little creatures is astounding, ranging from no spots to more than twenty, although black on red is the most common, there are also: black on yellow, black on orange, black on brown, even two-tone brown, red on black, and would you believe even black with red spots with a black spot on each of the red spots.

Now I am hopeful that as the weather cools I shall find a large cluster of these delightful beetles sheltering somewhere in the garden, probably in the woodpile, and I will look forward to the good work they will do for me next spring and summer.

Crows

During a telephone conversation with my son who lives in Seattle, I was intrigued by his telling of a radio programme about crows, and also an amazing sight his friend Rich witnessed showing the caring nature of squirrels.

First to the squirrels: Rich was walking along the road when he saw two crows fly down into the middle of the road. They were cawing and bobbing up and down. As Rich drew closer he noticed an injured small squirrel lying between them. It was a young squirrel, probably hit by a car. It was still alive, but unable to run away. The crows pecked at the squirrel as if testing whether it had yet expired. As Rich drew level with the scene, an adult squirrel shot out of the undergrowth, across the pavement and out to the middle of the road. It picked up the injured squirrel in its mouth, dashed back carrying it across the road, climbed up a tree with the injured squirrel still in its mouth until the two disappeared into the leaves. Whether or not the injured squirrel lived, we will never know, but to witness such an act is a precious thing. My belief is that the injured squirrel was a youngster and the rescuing squirrel its brave and strong parent rescuing it from an awful fate with the hungry crows. My son, however, says if hungry enough, squirrels will eat their own, but I prefer my compassionate explanation.

The radio programme about crows told how it had been discovered that crows are much more intelligent than previously thought, able to recognize human faces and tell them apart. Apparently crows have good memories and remember those who harass or upset them. When they see such a person they will set up an insistent cawing to warn others. (The researchers donned Dick Cheney masks before disturbing the crows – quite an appropriate mask I thought.)

Spider versus Wasp

Most of my nature observation occurs through a kitchen window while I inhale nebulized antibiotics each morning. This morning I watched an interesting interplay between an arachnid and an insect. The spider was smallish, mid-brown with a big abdomen. The insect was a parasitic ichneumon wasp, with its ovipositor it was larger than the spider. The wasp was first caught in a web at the top left hand corner of the window. The spider hurried across to her web and attempted to contain the struggling wasp, not entirely successfully. They dropped together to the bottom window ledge, where a brief struggle ensued and the spider took control – so much so he was able, even with the wasp’s wings moving in a blur, climb up the window, with his unwilling victim, back to his web. At this point, the wasp managed a short flight with the spider actually still attached to it, but it was unable to sustain it and the spider duly dragged the wasp back to its web. Once back at the top of the window the wasp made a valiant attempt to escape, and this time, even though locked in the spider’s embrace, took off , with the spider, and flew away across the lawn. What happened next? We shall never know.

Thirsty Worms

Our lawns are sprinkled with daisies, some all white, others prettily pink-edged, and dandelions. Until a few years ago, I used to spend much time digging dandelions out of the lawn to leave it pristine and weed-free as Mike likes it. Now, however, we welcome daisies – they remind us of starlit skies, and we especially like dandelions as a small group of bullfinches spend much time on the lawn eating the seeds from dandelion clocks. They are such a neat bird, a pleasing shape and such well-defined edges to their various colours of their coats. The pretty red-faced goldfinch is also drawn to the garden for the dandelion seedheads and seeds from the lemon balm plant.

Yesterday I saw our first newly fledged robin, very fetchingly speckled. The family in the carrier bag of plants are not fledged yet, but with both parents feeding all day long, they should be very strong when they are ready to face the big world.
We watched a visiting cat stalk, catch and dispatch a short-tailed field vole a few days ago. These are charming creatures and a good addition to the garden as they bring the owls; the weasels and the foxes have also been spied hunting and catching them.

I am constantly fishing worms out of the pond. How do they get in there and why? I never see them “running” across the lawn at breakneck speed to go for a swim, and if it is just a drink they need they could get that from the birdbath.

Baby Birds

The baby birds are starting to show themselves. The first on the scene were the dunnocks: tiny dark dashes on their heads and bodies, running from front to back. Next were the young blackbirds, newly feathered covered and fluffed out. They are bigger in appearance than their sleek parents, although the adult female is still plucked bare on the back of her head and neck by the efforts of the male to further his genes. I was delighted to see the first young starling. These birds have been rare and infrequent visitors to our garden the last few years. The youngster is sometimes mistaken for a young blackbird due to his mid-brown colour; he has none of the white spots or colourful iridescence of his parents, however. His squawk alone sets him apart from the blackbirds. His bill is different and his gape is also wider and more persistent. I threw out some suet, dried fruit, seed and wet bread. When he was a nestling his mother often chose suet or dried fruit, today she packed her beak with enormous quantities of wet bread and stuffed it down his open beak. After two such helpings, he stood very erect and looked uncomfortable. He watched and waited as she packed her beak again. Although he was opening and closing his beak he was unable to make a sound, so she flew back to the nest to feed his siblings while stayed very upright awaiting her return – an easy prey for the kestrel or the sparrowhawk, but fortunately for him, not today.

Friendly Robin

The last few years, my precious garden has become very overgrown, but now I have a new lease of life due to a change of medication – I can breathe so much more easily.

Mike has kept the lawns cut, but the rest has grown rampantly. This was not as bad as it might have been, because we have made our garden into a wildlife sanctuary, however, now I have more strength and energy, I am once again able to enjoy working on it.

Weeding a section of garden yesterday, I was joined by a friendly robin collecting grubs, worms and insects for the nestlings. This same robin waits on the kitchen window sill at odd times throughout the day until I provide some food. The robin made us laugh yesterday because it was apparent that although he watches me through the window, he did not equate the person he sees inside with the person who was doing the weeding, because while I was outside he kept flying to the window and looking intently inside.

There are many robins in the garden, but the reason this one is special is because he has built his nest and is rearing his young in a carrier bag with three plants in it outside the conservatory door. Our constant coming and going near the bag has made no difference to him – we might just as well be invisible as we stand in the open doorway and he flies in and out of the bag. I was worried for his family a week or so back when the heavy rain started, but need not have feared, because he had pulled one side of the bag down and inward to protect his nest.

The feud I observed last month between the mistle thrush and a magpie was won by the magpie, and the mistle thrushes are now building a new nest in the nearby conifers.