My late Father created what he called a “wild garden with cultivated patches”. Down two sides there are trees – a greengage, damson, cherry, apple, plum, hazelnut, rowan and a stray box pillar.
One side of a low fence is a rose-bed, whilst the far side has the fruit bushes, some space for vegetables, the garden shed and the compost bins. The stone wall at the end holds piles of brushwood, where the hedgehog and occasional pheasant hide and a small wilderness of rockery.
Half-way down the dividing fence is the ‘spug motel’…a section of plain hedge about 5 feet wide and 9 feet high, with a sloping top. This is where the flock, particularly the sparrows, retreat when startled by something or in high wind. The blackbirds can’t get in higher up, so they enter at the bottom and you can see their shadowy forms climbing upwards. If there is no special danger, the sparrows stick their heads out and chatter to one another – like flat-dwellers across the world.
There are two water trays, old plastic pot saucers, one at the base of the motel and the other at the top of the steps up from the sunken grass. They’re filled every other day, or more often if the blackbirds have had energetic showers. There is a small bird table close to the house, with a wire ball to hold fat balls above it, and a wire peanut feeder within. Two other peanut feeders, one a cone-shape of woven wire, the other has a ‘cage’ to stop bigger birds stealing all the food – and a couple of fat/seed cake feeders scattered amongst the trees. I also scatter seed once a day on the grass. It is mostly gone by lunch and all gone by tea-time – which is a prompt to put the kettle on…
thekitchensinkbirdwatcher 