These wagtails are really pushing their luck! In the June edition of this erudite publication, I mentioned that their nesting activities, in the ivy that clings to the walls of this lovely, old house, were preventing me from trimming the wretched stuff, back to a manageable state of infestation. Well, just as I was about to fetch the ladders and clippers, under the assumption that they had finished rearing their broods, I noticed a bobbing, grey wagtail standing on top of the bird-feeding station with a beak crammed full of insects. I watched in shocked horror, hardly daring to believe my eyes, until the determined little bird flitted up into the ivy; where it disappeared for a few seconds only to reappear and swoop down to its former perch, minus the food. Clearly, the indolent birds, like squatters, had taken a liberty and were in the process of raising yet another brood!! And this is what will happen when conditions are right, as they are this year. There’s plenty of food to be had, temperatures are warm and rainfall, a death knoll for young chicks, is low. So I can’t really blame them for taking advantage of the situation, can I?
Meanwhile the ivy and other assorted climbing shrubs are, without doubt, benefitting from the balmy weather and are, with frightening alacrity, engulfing the house in creeping tendrils and prickly or spiky branches.
Similarly, the swallows that come every year to nest in the stables are taking advantage of the benign weather and, unlike last year, when they came, looked and disappeared without laying a single egg, they hit town last month with a vengeance, obviously determined to make up for last years’ debacle. No messing about with unnecessary nest building for them; there were flies in abundance and this meant food for hungry chicks so, without further ado, they gave one of the original nests a good spring clean and, before long, the hen bird was sitting on a clutch of tiny white eggs. I have no doubt that, provided the weather remains benevolent and food is in abundance, this pair of birds will rear this brood and then produce one, if not more, to follow on.
I often marvel at the stoicism and boldness of some of our native birds particularly when nesting and none more than the blue tit that I encountered recently. I was in the process of renovating an old timber shed that had once doubled as an office, at which time, it had been lined, internally, with thin, plywood sheets. Whilst removing the sheets, I discovered an enormous mass of moss which filled the cavity between the weather boards and the ply lining. On top of this weird lump of vegetation was a tiny nest lined with feathers which contained nine, miniscule eggs. Access to the nest was via a hole that had been pecked through one of the outer boards. I was upset by my inadvertent intrusion on these tiny birds and unsure of what to do in this unusual predicament. I hastily cut a strip of ply and nailed it across the nest, leaving about half of the moss exposed below. Within minutes I was delighted to hear activity behind the wood as the returning birds, after much tutting and tidying, settled back into their routine. Sadly, a few days later, I discovered that our cat had pulled the nest from below and there, exposed to the elements, were five, naked, blind chicks. I had no option but to place the chicks back into the remnants of their nest and with a hapless feeling I pushed the nestlings and moss back into place and fixed yet another strip of plywood to hold everything together. And, guess what? The blue tits returned and after much scolding and more tidying they proceeded to rear and fledge their tiny progeny, despite the disruption.
Must go now, it’s time I flew too!
Ian Thew
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