Today,s title is a line from a poem,by Walter De La Mare, I think, and it certainly describes the woods today perfectly. There is about them a soft fuzzy blackness that almost seems warm against the cold grey sky.
Our small wood is the refuge of many birds and animals, all in need of the food and shelter that the belt of trees provides. In the ivy wood pigeons are busy stripping the dull black berries from amongst the leaves. Blackbirds too relish this late bounty as by now almost all other fruits have long since been stripped by hungry feeders.
Along the orchard wall a wren has been flitting all day, exploring the many crevices in search of a meal, the nesting pouch in which the pair raised their young still provides vital shelter for this tiny bird in the depths of this cold winter weather. Further along the wall a Tit box is full each evening with Blue Tits huddled together for warmth, I have counted eleven going in and I suspect that the number may be even higher.
My Robin,a dear little creature and very tame roosts in my potting shed the window is always left open just a crack. There has been a battle for territory between two birds during the last week and I am afraid that my little friend lost to a younger bird, probably one of his own offspring. He no longer appears at the feeders in the small garden at the rear of the house but keeps now to the orchard were he has nested for several years, and so we feed him on a platform in the old damson tree. I must say that I miss him tapping at the kitchen window and sitting on the doorstep, I shall see more of him when I go back to the vegetable garden to work once more. I expect you are thinking that all robins look alike and this is usually the case, my Robin however has a white feather in each wing making him easy to recognise even if he did not sit on my boot while I sit or join me for a biscuit when I take a break.
Our resident fox has been courting and has probably mated by now, the chorus of yaps, barks, growls and howls has broken our sleep for some time and our little cat spends a large part of every night in the window watching the suitors cavort about the garden.
The wing is strong today and very cold indeed, in spite of this I went out for and hour for an airing and to watch the gulls wheeling over the tide meadow joined by a great many crows in search of food, there were so many gulls that they seemed like great whirling snow flakes and the noise was deafening as they screamed and called and squabbled over trifles cast up by the retreating tide.
The river is tidal here and we have a great variety of water birds, Canada geese of course but also Egyptian Geese very colourful and very noisy.. At night a large group congregate on the slipway and woe betide anyone who strays amongst them after dark.
On the island a fox prospects each evening for any unsuspecting water bird, he is usually successful although it can take quite a time for him to subdue the larger birds whose anguished cries can be heard all over the village.
At this time of year survival is all that matters to most of the woodland residents and not all of the will make it through to spring .
Those that do will be the strongest fittest and most resourceful of their kind and this is natures way. There is no sentiment in nature ,eat or be eaten, kill or be killed is the rule by which they live and yet these creatures fill our world with so much beauty and give so much joy to those who watch them. I wonder if we humans would be as interesting or beautiful to watch as we scrabble and claw our way through life, although our business is survival too I doubt it very much..
N.B The poem is actualy by Robert Frost....silly me!
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