Through A Window

 

I'm recording the birds I see from my window and it occurred to me that I'm like a primary school teacher with a roll book. The goldfinches showed up for the first time yesterday even though my nyjer seed feeder has been in place for at least two weeks. It seems they preferred to visit the feeders outside Hannah's windows. 

It was very wet today and the pied wagtails did not appear. I hope they come tomorrow. A solitary wren footered about the crevices in the stone wall. Wrens have no interest in feeders, they only care for live insects.

Both pictures above were taken through the window so not that good but I like them because they are my birds. The first sunny day I'm cleaning that window.

Rage Against The Machine

I've noticed these past few days that while traffic has decreased (a lot) on our little B road, there is an increase in what is known around these parts as 'boy racing'. It must be hard on young bucks, no excitement in their lives, not allowed to go anywhere for fear of the PSNI flagging them down to ask, Is Your Journey Really Necessary? So, out for a quick burn around the country roads for a wee spurt of adrenalin.

Why not?

Because you are all annoying wee fucks in your souped-up cars.

And.

One of you killed a wren.

Your deluded ma wouldn't agree with me but I believe that wren had more to give the world than you.

Let It Be

Going into the kitchen this morning I spotted a little creature, skittering about, hiding behind the compost bin. My first thought was rodent but it was a wren. I tried to catch it, but it evaded me and made for the hall. I captured it (gently) by the front door. Outside. I hoped it might fly away but it couldn't so I laid it on a pile of beech leaves in the corner of the garden steps.

The culprit had to be a cat. Although no cat was to be seen. Our dogs police the cats so perhaps they harassed it into dropping the wren. Who knows?

There was a time when I might have thought it my duty to try and save that bird. Now I realise that doing so would only prolong its agony. If it was to die it would prefer to do so outdoors and without the interference of well-meaning humans.

Nevertheless, when Bert returned from an errand I told him what had occurred and as we approached the wee bird again it managed to fly towards the safety of a clipped buxus. So we couldn't see it any more. We left it. I like to think it recovered from its ordeal and was fit enough to continue its life on this earth. And, if not, it was still a very good year for wrens.

Cats are fuckers.

Wrens and Stuff

Sometimes, when I don't blog it's because there is far too much going on and I don't know where to start. Right now I'm perturbed by racist attitudes that some people believe are acceptable now. That kept me awake last night. Thank you, Brexit and Trumpism.

Then there is this the book I'm currently reading, Profound Simplicity by Will Schott. It's from the olden days (1979) but still very thought-provoking. I'm applying some of its principles to my everyday life. So far I'm doing in several areas - less hole-scratching, more positivity and a huge reduction in feelings of guilt. Take that Catholic upbringing!

The other thing is the wrens. The sweet, brown, sneaky wrens that live in the polytunnels. Impossible to photograph so I just watch them. They delight me. Here's someone else's picture.

Bad Start To The Day

After yesterday's post I'm looking for a loaded shotgun myself or maybe even a  ball peen hammer. Coming downstairs I see The Bastard Fred playing with a piece of something on the hall floor, a wine cork maybe, or a piece of dried grass? No. A dead wren. We had a wren's nest this year in an old rusting piece of farm machinery and now there is one less wren in the world. Sometimes I hate cats.

Update: Once again I got it wrong. I didn't examine the corpse very closely and judged it on size. The little bird was a goldcrest. Bert is fit to be tied.

Wren, Titchwell (Norfolk), 9-Jun-04

Wren, Titchwell (Norfolk), 9-Jun-04
Originally uploaded by Dave Appleton.

Katy, who lives there, says that Norfolk is an excellent place for bird watching. She calls it good twitcher country. I don't know if Dave Appleton is a twitcher but he's a superb photographer and this is, without doubt, the best picture of a wren that I could find on the internet.