Robin and his mate have nested in the orchard as usual and early as it is I suspect that they already have a brood of young. When ever I appear out of doors I am besieged by the pair and I know exactly what they want from me as the hint they drop are so broad that they cannot be misunderstood. Leaning against the wall there is an old spade, one robin sits upon the handle while the other gets my attention by flying around my head like a satellite landing on my shoulder every now and then. This is robin code for “Find us some worms please”.
This behaviour is a regular occurrence with this pair and of course I always oblige by digging over a small patch of ground, moving some fallen leaves of lifting a pot or two. Once this is done the pair pounce upon anything that wriggles and fly straight for their nest,it can mean only one thing, within a couple of week there will once again be spotty youngsters taking their place amongst our ever increasing flock of wild birds.
Robins are territorial and will attack other robins who invade their ground,what is odd about our birds is that we have three pairs nesting within an area which would only support one pair and I have seen as many as five robins at a tome using the feeding stations in the small rear garden. Perhaps urban robins are changing their habits to suit the environment,who knows?
What an odd thing it is that the tiny wren, so timid that it is rarely seen makes so much noise.
Today listened to a male wren singing at the top of his voice,which was very loud indeed . Our orchard wall is home to a family of wrens very year and they are a delight to see and hear. Creatures of habit they like to bathe at least once a day, in the summer this takes place at around four in the afternoon.
First you hear the sound full throated and joyous, a cascade of tumbling notes sounding almost liquid,then the bird appears timid and yet quite prepared to see off any stray blue tit that failed to hear its warning call.
How this tiny bird loves water, wholeheartedly it immerses itself again and again fluttering its wings and sending droplets of water every where. Flying away just a short distance then wren next preens and arranges its feathers for a few moments and then fly s back to the water and begins all over again. Finally the little bird finds a safe spot and fluffs out its feathers to dry, its mate usual follows almost at once and when there are youngsters it is amusing to watch them al splashing about,
Unlike blue tits who form and orderly queue for their turn to bathe wren youngsters prefer to pile in for a good old splash, between them they k=make more mess than the blackbirds.
Soon we shall begin to feed live meal worms as these are of the greatest benefit to fledglings, and tomorrow I shall of course dig another patch of ground for my old friend Robbie and his hungry family.
Twiggy is on her best behaviour at this time and I am happy to say that it is four years or more since she killed a bird. Thomas our lovely tabby cat would sit in the orchard with fledglings hopping between his feet and on his head showing no aggression at all while the poor parent birds called frantically for their young to take care.
Many years ago we were given an injured little owl and having a young female cat we were of course concerned and took steps to keep them apart. Returning home pone evening we found the owls box empty and fearing the worst went to look for the cat. We found her curled up before the fire with the fluffy little owl tucked in with her in her own basket,. This unlikely friendship lasted and the cat would sit O the widow sill twitching her tail for the owl to jump on., of course she was careful not to get to many sharp tweaks but it taught the owl a little about hunting. While this may not seem ideal today the owl survived and retired to the wild breeding successfully for some years and would line up his offspring on the telephone wires like small soldiers on Parade.
How did I know it was our owl? Quite simply its fondness for cat food developed during its stay with us. Of course we gave it small rodents cut up and it did eat these grisly offerings but the moment our backs were turned it would head directly for the cats bowl .Years later it would still come to us if cat food was on offer. Oh by the way, we called him Scaramouche!
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