As I mentioned in my video post at the beginning of May about the Robins, we’ve had plenty of nests in the garden this year. It’s been a few weeks now so here’s an update of their progress:

• The Starlings successfully fledged from the nest above our bedroom window about four days ago
• The Moorhens chicks who’d only just fledged at the beginning of the month are roving about more, though there would appear to be only three of five remaining
• The Blackbirds have incubated four chicks in the lean-to shed, they’re getting quite big now (more from them another day)
• The House Sparrows who nest under the tiles above Joe’s window are now bringing their fledgelings to feed in the garden
• Next door’s Swallows still seem to be building their nest and rather excitingly a pair have been casually renovating on of the old nests in our coal shed so fingers crossed they decide to stay

This little Blue Tit (below) is from a nest in the box in our larger Yew tree, they fledged on Friday and have been noisily haranguing their parents to bring food to their various ‘secret’ locations all over the weekend whilst I’ve been gardening. I also found another Blue Tit nest this weekend in the stonework of the wall around our side garden and today the two of the chicks from that later brood were squeezed into the entrance hole chirping madly at anything which passed, including Joe and me.

 

Blue Tit fledgeling (Cyanistes caeruleus) by blackartz

 

House Sparrow (Passer domesticus) by blackartz

When we first moved in, these birds nested in our ramshackle coal shed for a couple of years, then after a particularly bad year in which many more than usual didn’t make it back over the Sahara, we’ve been a little bereft. Hundreds of them and their close relative the House Martins (Delichon urbicum), still frequent our airspace and this year there’s even been a little more interest in our outbuildings. Next door’s car port has a nest though and the messy side garden we keep our hens in has proved a useful area for gathering straw and feathers with which to do much of the construction.

They do look a little ungainly on the ground, having such short legs and feet better adapted to perching than waddling around. I was quite pleased to get these shots as they don’t hang about for long due to the fact that as well as being a very busy time for them, the hens do get a little territorial about their garden, the more dominant ones liking to chase any intruder in a terrific show of chicken ferocity. Of course the Swallows just casually spring into the air and zoom off, sometimes doing a couple of circuits just above hen head height as if to prove a point.

Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica) gathering nest material by blackartz

Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica) gathering nest material by blackartz

So far this year we’ve been having a bit of a bumper year for nests.

Starlings have returned to last years penthouse suite above our bedroom window, the Moorhens who share our hen’s food successfully incubated 5 eggs, Blackbirds are again nesting in my lean to shed, House Sparrows are nesting in both our roof and that of our closest neighbour and the neighbours on the other side have Swallows building a nest in their car port. Its safe to say that spring has most definitely sprung.

Pride of place in this nest-a-thon must go to the robins though who thoughtfully built their nest at just below eye height in the ivy which holds our coal shed together. Here’s a short edit of some footage I shot with my DSLR and Camcorder, which would be much better if the lighting was consistent throughout 🙂

No huge surprises during the hour’s bird watch, but it was nice to see that the Song and Mistle thrushes didn’t miss their cue even if the woodpeckers, Wrens and Jays did.

The winning species in terms of numbers at least, was the humble Chaffinch:

Seasonal post this one.

At this time of year the local Sparrowhawks make the most of the glut of inexperienced and deliciously nutritious recent fledgelings. I’ve never understood why people get upset about having these exquisite predators visit their gardens. They’re usually about as close as we get to genuine tip predators, those highly evolved specialists who sit at the top of the food chain, sharing their evolutionary niche with Polar Bears, Great White Sharks and Lions. Complaining that they take birds from a busy bird table is a bit like getting uptight about Orcas eating Sea Lions from a busy beach. Species necessarily coexist and the presence of predators in an ecosystem indicates that it’s healthy. If there aren’t enough resources lower down the food chain to feed everything else, then there won’t be anything to support those predators at the top.

Twice this week, I’ve seen a female Sparrowhawk like the one in the photo below, catching birds in the garden. In all likelihood it’s this same female that I photographed a few years ago or at least a close relative, because they’re pretty short lived, the average lifespan being just 2.7 years.

Sparrowhawk (Accipiter nisus) by blackartz

Early on Tuesday morning I raised the bedroom blind and thought that although the weather had indeed taken an intemperate Autumnal turn, I definitely wasn’t expecting snow just yet. Large, fat, floaty flakes too. Then I noticed the alarm calls from the birds in the yew tree.

Trying to loop the blind cord round the stubby stanchion thingy, requires delicate figure of eight finesse, especially when trying to prevent a toddler getting tangled up in it. Eagerly scanning the garden for an anticipated raptor encounter hampers this. Eventually, and with the cord in a terrible mess, I spot the hawk. She’s on the lawn, covering her prey with self consciously flexed wings like a child afraid that someone’s going to copy her exam answers. All the while a sizable tree brimming with thrushes, finches and tits is venting their collective spleen, so pretty quickly she tires of the attention.

A forward lean and full smooth wing extension turns a crouch into an upward swoop.
Flight feathers flick dew from the wet grass, once, twice, three times.
The dead finch’s head metronomes each off beat, then she’s gone.