Tag: birds

Jenny Antoinette

I feel something like…Mary Antoinette with her eighteenth century pouffe (although without the parrot, fruit bowl, animals, toy ships or other novelty items) but with a great pomp of a towering edifice on top of my head.

MOTH and I took a gentle, state-sanctioned, walk the other day. It was a glorious morning, ice and frost had sugared everything to white and the sky was that wonderful bright blue that seems so particular to winter. As we passed under trees that were in the sun, we were rained on by tiny frozen pellets as the ice melted enough from the branches to fall in crystal droplets, but not enough to turn to liquid.

Frosted teasels

It was obviously a day that had caught a lot of people’s attention and although I generally avoid social media most of the time, beautiful photos of walks popped up everywhere. It felt as if, for a day at least, there was a shared excitement of the beauty of nature rippling through a collective consciousness. Whether it was because we are once again being asked to stay home as much as possible or just the inevitable grasp at a nice day after bleak greyness and damp I don’t know, but so many people felt the magnificence in the day and went out to experience it. This, I feel, can only be a good thing, especially when we have all just undergone a universal global moment of, ‘what on earth’ with the happenings on the other side of the pond alongside our own home-grown recklessness. (That is as close as I will come to political ranting here, I promise.)

I had to take a quick break from writing to run downstairs and feed the birds. It was a hurried and early off today for my pre-chemo blood tests and I didn’t have time before going out. Goodness, do I feel the guilt if I forget to feed them or even just put their food out late. The sparrows barrel in and u-turn in a huff if they see the feeders empty, the starlings strut about the tray obstreperously pecking at the emptiness, the blue tits perch forlornly looking to where food is not – they certainly know how to show their feelings and frankly they do exaggerate, there are always fat balls and nut butter out as well.

Peace before the day begins

I was very pleased to spot a new bird in the garden recently, a redwing. As well as it being a great year for fungi, there has been an abundance of berries this winter; hawthorn, pyracantha, holly and cotoneaster, particularly and the birds have been gorging. According to the RSPB, the redwing is the UKs smallest true thrush, looking very similar but with a blush of red under the wing. They visit in the winter months and they love berries. There is a possibility I may be mistaken and it is a fieldfare, but I am holding out that I am right if only because it would be nice to be. I’m pretty sure though that I have seen the bold stripy chest of the redwing through my binoculars, the using of which always makes me feel like I am the proverbial nosy neighbour, which I am, it’s just I’m only interested in the birds.

The nest of a chiff chaff, perhaps.

On another short walk, my mum and I came across a small and very neat nest perched among some scrub and brambles about a foot off the ground. It has been suggested that the nest was that of the chiff chaff –  perhaps one of the most onomatopoeic of the birds. We also enjoyed the sight of a tree doing yoga or rather, what we think was a huge and old piece of ivy that had entwined the tree to make it look as if it were contorting itself into the tree yoga pose. It seems in lockdown, even nature is taking up hobbies. 

It is a very odd feeling to wear a hat over a wig. I feel something like one of the changing guards with their large Bearskin hats or perhaps a little like Mary Antoinette with her eighteenth century pouffe (although without the parrot, fruit bowl, animals, toy ships or other novelty items) but with a great pomp of a towering edifice on top of my head. I know this is not actually what it looks like, in fact, I don’t think anyone would know there was anything out of the ordinary if it wasn’t mentioned, but it certainly feels as if there is rather a lot going on up there. 

I don’t wear my wig every day, it is very tight and can get itchy and there is a strange feeling of being disingenuous; looking as if I have hair, when I do not. But, I have to admit it does give me a greater sense of ‘normality’ for a while when I do wear it, not having the glaring, ‘I have cancer,’ look going on. And it is definitely warm, which at the moment is a bonus. Perhaps to garner the mood I should embrace the look and add a redwing representation to my wig/hat combo.

Close encounters of the winged kind

This week I have been getting entirely too close to nature, or rather, it has been entering my personal space to different degrees of acceptance from me. But before all that, I have just trodden on a slug – with bare feet! That would be me with the bare feet, of course, not the slug although I guess their one foot is always bare. Anyway, that is how my week ended with regard to wildlife interaction. Squishy.

Earlier in the week I was undertaking the all-too-regular event of trying to get one, the other or both of the cats in for the evening. We keep them in overnight these days which is much better all round: better for us having less vets bills to pay from all the night time scrapping, better for the cats as they have less injuries from all the night time scrapping and better for all the other wildlife as there is less night time killing.

On this night, small cat had evaded our early calls and had taken himself off on a long hike. Either that or he was deploying the tactic big cat uses which is to sit a mere few feet away, hidden and absolutely ignoring our calling and cat treat rattling. But it was a warm night and had become that wonderful time when all the crepuscular creatures head out for foraging, courting and the ever popular night time scrapping. As I stood calling to the small beast I was given a close fly-by by a bat. We get at least one on most nights at this time of year and its lovely to see them lapping the garden. I think I must have been in its flight path though, and I’m sure I could feel it touch lightly as it flew by. I love bats, so this was not a problem.

The next morning, I was sitting outside with a hot water and lemon for a bit of fresh air before starting work for the day. Tucked away with jasmine and honeysuckle behind me, buddleia and a eucalyptus to the left and a plum tree to the right I was nestled neatly among flora. Which is perhaps why a beetle was unable to navigate around me in time and came and gave me a bumbling headbutt before making its awkward flight away. This encounter was fine also. In the same place and only a few moments later a female blackbird skimmed my head having taken off from the fence behind the jasmine. I think she was more startled than I was. (I could not help but think of Carl Bovis, a nature photographer I follow on Twitter who posts amazing pictures of birds in flight with wings and legs tucked in and looking as if they had been pointedly thrown at him by his enemies.) But, a low-flying bird is also quite alright with me.

What was not alright was my next encounter of the week. After a spot of gardening I put my jogging bottoms back on and was having a nice chat with MOTH in the kitchen when all of a sudden I felt a rather painful stab on my bottom (left cheek, if you needed to know). Discarding the joggers to investigate it became clear that there was a wasp in there and the little git had just stung me. This was not alright. I was not best pleased in the least. MOTH was very good and managed to stop from outright laughing for some time, including when I lay down and asked him to put an apple cider vinegar soaked cotton pad on the, ahem, area. (By the way, this absolutely works for wasp stings to bring down the redness and itching.) Three days on and I can still feel it, but its ok, you can all laugh, even I find it funny – until I sit down.