Tag Archives: fieldfare

Winter Safari

I love my cycle commute to school.  It provides a light workout as well as giving me time to de-tox from the rigours of taming teenagers.  And I have more time to observe the world around me.

As I cycled through Lower Hadspen last week, I saw two large birds rising from the road in front of me.  I immediately recognised one as a buzzard and was pleased to see the other was a red kite.  These angular birds of prey are still relatively new to Somerset, having spread their territory down from Wales and the Midlands. I remember the first time I saw one in the county; it was circling over a schools’ athletics meeting at Yeovil and I hoped the presence of this carrion-eating raptor did not reflect poorly on the prognosis for the exhausted teenagers competing on the track.

This kite rose with ease from what I discovered was a dead hare. I was sad to see a hare as roadkill, but I supposed its presence, albeit dead, was more evidence to show that hares seem to be on the increase in our area.  We saw hares nearer our home last summer. An adult hare deliberately ran at our labrador, before veering off to lead her away from what I assumed were her young in another part of the field.  Needless to say, Ella took the bait but returned – exhausted – soon after without any prey.

Beyond the dead hare, I cycled slowly past cider orchards, alive with hundreds of chuffling fieldfares and looping redwings and later at home, as I walked with the dogs, I listened to robins singing and blackbirds calling in the gathering gloom. We traversed fields as flocks of starlings skimmed across the treetops on their way to reedbed roosts on the Levels.

The sun was setting, its heat dissipating across the horizon in the frosty air and I caught a glimpse of something else red russet in the distance.  A large fox was trotting distractedly away from me across the field.  He looked unconcerned but stopped to look at me as I did likewise.  Lithe and healthy, he seemed to hinge at the hips as he gazed at me before moving along.  Some song lines came to mind:

“I was lookin’ back to see if you were lookin’ back at me
To see me lookin’ back at you”. 

The title – “Safe from Harm” – seemed apt as neither dog had the remotest clue of the fox nearby.  He was in no danger and the air of calm deepened still as my gaze followed him and I noticed two roe deer, also looking back at me.  They moved lightly across the field below us.  I laughed ironically and asked them if they were all paid up members of my cycling and walking safari. 

I put my two natural born killers on their leads and wandered up the lane for a cup of tea.

Feed the Birds

Pied Wagtails in central Bath (poor pic)
Pied Wagtails in central Bath (poor pic)

Mary Poppins the musical is back doing the rounds and so I somehow got an ear worm in my head that is straight out of the show. Ear worm is an apt description as the song is “Feed the Birds”.  It was always something that the parents did and the Old Man has always been diligent in keeping the feeders full of nuts.  in recent winters the main recipients have been rats who have climbed the wisteria to hang on the wire cage and feast.  This year TOM has not been putting food out for the birds (or the rats) yet. Whether this is because the weather has been so mild our feathered friends really do not need any more sustenance I am not sure.

In years gone by we would be asked to delay pruning the Cotoneaster until the birds had been able eat all the berries, but frankly I have never seen any self-respecting fieldfares helping themselves to the red plenty.

But we have found other ways in which to provide for the wild bird population.  A year or two back the starlings would flock around the hen run and clean us out of layers pellets and corn. It cost us a bomb to keep re-filling the feeder – making for some of the more expensive free range eggs around. We now have a feeder that is not accessible to small birds so that is sorted.

Equally, I have put an end to providing fodder to the pigeons, who after I had netted the purple sprouting, turned their attention to the kale and when I covered that, they started to shred the brussels. Can’t fault them for taste, but it amuses me how easily they are put off feeding by a bit of green net.

Birds I am happy to aid in their five-a-day nutritional requirements are obviously the robins who appear as soon as I pick up a fork. Robins act like they are your chums and at Christmas they appear all sweet and festive on cards and the like. But they are fiercely territorial and pretty damned belligerent towards each other. So not all that cute.

The other piece of bird-friendly activity I finally did yesterday was to take the netting off the raspberries – thereby allowing birds to rummage in amongst the canes for any old fruit or other stuff.

And all day long I was humming along “tuppence a bag”…

Bleak Mid-Winter?

Winter sky
Winter sky

The sky was opalescent yesterday morning as I took the dogs out for their daily ramble. The clouds were grey and wind-blown, but a small aperture had been rubbed away by the elements to reveal a patch of blue with some pink-tinged wisps of cumulus. Even the most dull walk can be enlivened by the smallest sight or the greatest view. Even in the depths of winter there’s always something to brighten your day such as a patch of blue sky, a flock of fieldfares taking flight or a sparrowhawk hunting along the hedgerows.

December mow - the mole hill reappeared within minutes
December mow – the mole hill reappeared within minutes

But it does not feel like the depths of winter.  Since the frost of a few weeks ago it has remained steadfastly mild – warm even – and the garden continues to grow as if summer had not ended. It is mid-December and we have alstroemerias blooming as well as other blossom in the borders.   The penstemons still bloom and the grass has simply kept on growing.  But combined with the amount of rain we have had, cutting it has been nigh on impossible.  Yesterday, though, as it did not rain in the night, I took a punt and jumped on the mower and had a go.  The mower was not happy, and I could only imagine the stirrings from next door as the Old Man would be turning down his TV to listen to the grinding of the blades against the damp grass.  Even now I still do stuff around the house and garden with a vestigial sense of doom wondering if I am doing it correctly in the eyes of my parents.  I guess most of us do this to some extent but when the eyes and ears of one parent are only the other side of the kitchen window the lingering nature of the affliction devolves to a more clear and present danger.  On the up side, though, The Old Man is not walking too far these days, so even if my concerns about his thoughts on mowing in such conditions are real (and not imaginary) then at least he’s not likely to run out in to the garden to voice his disapproval.

So I clattered on with the mower thinking that I could get away with whatever lack of foresight or good workmanship I might be displaying.  And yet, when I saw TOM this morning he announced that it was an all-time record to be mowing in December.  “But it did need it” he affirmed – thus giving approval to my bleak mid-winter mow.