A Cheeky Drink on a Cold Day

It really has been a hard week weatherwise for the birds, although conditions here have been less harsh than some areas. After 4 sub-zero rides to work, I really didn't fancy being outside much today, which is a bit wussy but it I am fed up of being freezing cold today.

However, I was still going to go outside for a bit, again to try and photograph the local birds around the garden, seeing if I could sneak snaps over the fence of birds on a neighbour's feeder.

Having seen plenty of blue tits and great tits around, I was hopeful that they would provide a good photographic target, but of course, the appearance of a camera meant that every small songbird within ten miles of me disappeared. However, there were plenty of blackbirds around, and after waiting for a good few minutes with my camera resting on a fence, one of them came for a drink from a stone birdbath.

The water was frozen, and so this handsome, glossy male was only able to drink from one edge of the bath, and luckily for me he took his time over his pint, so I was able to get some OK shots while a woodpigeon watched over us both from the church roof.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 02.02.19

The Blackbirds are Sporting

Today was another non-running day, put off by a freezing wind blowing like something out of a J.G. Ballard novel, a gale fit to slice organs in half.

I went to Rumbles care in the early afternoon for tea, while the trees in the Sconce Park were bent double by the force of the breeze, and then took off for a walk through the cemetery and around the lakes in the afternoon.

Primroses are now out in abundance, while some of the snowdrops are starting to look rather tired already. If that is the case I'm heading out to Kelham Hall as soon as possible, to see the snowdrop church there while it still looks at its spectacular best. Crocuses are beginning to line the path through the graveyard in purple and white, but I have a feeling the nature of this long warm early spring punctuated by cold snaps means we won't have properly impressive displays of spring flowers this year.

One thing I've noticed is that the birds are getting racier earlier this year. My recent posts have mentioned fighting mallards, and scrapping robins. Today, it is blackbirds that are taking their turn for seconds out, round one, as the squabbling pair of males I found going at it on the path next to the Blue Lake.

As with the robins, there was a faintly comic air about the fight, all blurry wings and fanned out tails, with the possibility of any damage being done to either bird remote. This fight however, took to the air at some points, the force of their ground collisions and hummingbird wingbeats seemingly driving the birds into the air.

The victor soon dealt with the interloper, who flapped off into the undergrowth while the winner flew up into the tree to admire his, and still his, territory.

Alas I was only able to get one shot, it all happened so quickly, but another bird put on a display for me among the daffodils in the park. He really was a bird in top condition, eyes and beak bright orange, and lovely plumage.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 02.02.16

The Empty Nest Now has an Occupier

You may remember about three weeks ago I posted a picture of the barely started blackbird nest in the folk's pergola, a replacement for the cat damaged one from 2014 that the birds themselves shoved to the ground.

It was a loose, rough circle of a few twigs and stalks, a tentative beginning to the breeding season.

The nest didn't seem to change much over the next few days, until suddenly one day it was more or less complete, with a wall of mud forming the rim. On a hunch I checked tonight, and this was the scene.

Mummy blackbird is on the nest!

I have no idea if this is the same pair as last year, one would think there is a fair chance of it if they have chosen to nest in the same place. Years ago, the pergola was always the favoured site for nesting, before it seemed to move with a different generation of birds to a group of cloud trees further out into the garden. But over the last two or three years, the pergola has become the prime piece of garden real estate again, and my parents have spent many happy hours sat outside watching the comings and goings a few feet away.

After the attack by the neighbours' cat last year, one hopes for a less eventful nesting season for these birds. But after seeing that said cat is no longer wearing the bell he had been sporting of late, I'm worried.

Si

A Blackbird Vignette from Newark

As I went out my front door this morning, prepatory for heading for work at 6am, I had another of the lovely little widlife vignettes I so enjoy.

An adult blackbird had brought back an enormous lump of bread for a very grown up fledgling on my driveway, so grown up its gape had faded and it was practically larger than its parent. However, the bread was far too big for even the greediest of chicks, so after an initial attempt at feeding bounced off the fledglings head, the ungrateful child peeped insistently at the adult until it tried again, with exactly the same result.

I was reminded of the “And that's how I acquired my drinking problem” scenes from the Airplane movies.

Eventually, after a few avian accidental headbutts the bread had reached edible size, and the fledgling was duly fed, with that same insistent peeping in between each mouthful. Early evening at home, there were three fledglings sat on my back wall; I pity the parents of this demanding little brood.

I love such moments; unremarkable, un-noteworthy perhaps, but a cheerful sign of life going on around you as the prospect of a grim roadwork hassled cycle to work looms over your helmeted head. When I arrive, there's often a singing linnet sat on the fence at my grim industrial workplace, but that's another vignette I may have written about before, and may do again.

Copyright creamcrackerednature  03/07/14

They Sing and Scoff

Was walking home from the pub at a disreputable hour, an hour when all good naturalists should be in bed waiting for a dawn in a cold damp hide somewhere. Not I. I was walking home, taking some detours to avoid some wankers, and as I approached the little park near my home, suddenly the quiet hours became alive with birdsong.

230am and the Blackbirds were singing as if their lives depended on it, and so sweetly and joyfully it took the sting out of a misty drizzly grey night.

Obviously after a hard night's melodifying, the buggers would be hungry, and sure enough I noticed my Holly tree twitching like it had St Vitus Dance. Looking out my window, two males and a female were gobbling the berries, which glinted like rubies in a weak winter sun ass they momentarily held them in their beaks before swallowing them with a snappy motion.

I'm very glad my holly tree is being used by smaller song birds, and not the stamping ground of the woodpigeons who had already cleaned it out by this time last year.

Seeing as it was a pleasant old evening, headed out for a walk - my leg is a bit torn at the moment in the calf department - and wandered down by London Road Lake to see what I might see. The Mallard Drakes post Eclipse are in stunning condition - bottle green heads irridescent, and also their black rumps have a purple sheen. The (not) Black Headed Gulls drifting around serene with pure white bodies and crisp grey wings are also in good nick.

Alas, the same can't be said for me at the moment!