Yesterday, I had intended to write about the blackbirds who were working to feed a nestling, a clumsy bundle of speckled brown and buff feathers which alternately staggered around the rosebed, or stayed motionless on the earth next to the drystone wall, so quiet and still that it almost disappears into the colours of the stonework. Last night it was perched, alone, on a high branch and I frankly worried for it on a night that threatened an air frost.
This morning, when I lifted the blind over the kitchen window, there were the blackbirds hurrying back-and-forth stuffing all sorts of morsels into the beak of the round feather bundle. They’ve done it for most of the day, but tonight, I fear that the fledgling may have made a tactical error. It is roosting on the thin oil pipe which goes along the fence, at about head height for a cat.
Actually, today has been a constant shifting jigsaw of birds determined to stuff as much food into their beaks as possible…even the wren bounced joyously along the top of the fenceline.
I have never seen either of the woodpeckers come to the garden more than once in a day, but the little female has been here at least three times today that I have seen. She came first to the three-quarter coconut, hanging on to the front of it to stab her long beak into the fat and seed mix. Later, she came up to the birdtable to make the most of the peanut feeder which a helpful jackdaw had wedged against the side of the table. Finally, she was at the cone feeder. It didn’t appear that she was collecting food for a brood somewhere, she was eating for herself.
thekitchensinkbirdwatcher 