I have become very attached to the birds who visit my garden. From the very noisy sparrows who flit in and out of the tree on mass; to the lumbering wood pigeons, who find it very hard to get off the ground, so plod their way around the lawn looking for something to eat.
I suppose it’s my fault there are so many avifauna, as I tend to feed them regularly, and encourage my granddaughters to do the same. As we always leave the crusts on our bread – an instinctive family inherited trait – there is always a little snack available for the birds.
From being tiny Eleanor and Matilda could identify different types of our feathered friends, and were especially happy when they spotted a robin.
It’s extremely noticeable when I step into the garden with a ham sandwich that the noise level in the tree heightens, as the sparrows anticipate a tasty morsel coming their way. They are also very resourceful, as even though I haven’t provided them with a bird bath, after a very hot day recently, they flew out front and I watched them bathing in the tiny puddles that were left over from a intermittent rain shower!
However, I tend to draw the line at crows, who disperse all my little friends with one defiant swoop and carry off huge pieces of bread in their beaks to devour on some near rooftop.
The other day when this happened, I was reminded of the Alfred Hitchcock film with its disturbing scene when the birds sought revenge and struck. To be fair to these crows; they were more interested in filling their hungry stomachs, rather than replicating a scene from a 1960’s movie, which the theme was – according to Hitchcock – ‘exact revenge against humanity for taking nature for granted.’
And by far the cheekiest of my garden visitors, are the seagulls!
I have to ask myself, what on earth are they doing here in Consett, almost 900 feet above sea level, but there you go – it takes all sorts!
Locally, it’s also heartwarming to see Red Kites soaring high in the distance, even though I have never observed one close up, they are easy to identify with their giant wing span of almost 2 metres, and distinctive brown and red plumage.
If that has whetted your appetite for bird watching, you could always pop along to the bus station and have a ride on a red kite bus to Winlaton Mill and follow the Red Kite Trail.
One of the most treasured places in my garden, is beside a metal dragonfly, that marks the spot where my granddaughters and I held the funeral of the lovely little blackbird they found on the path. With a full solemn committal, we buried him in a white paper towel shroud, carried ceremoniously to his resting place on a shovel.
After the event I was asked, with wide eyed anticipation,
‘Are there birds in heaven Grandma?’
‘I would like to think so’ I exclaimed,
‘If not, there would be loads of bread left over!’
They both nodded in agreement and were happy with the reply – for now!
