I've noticed this year there's many more birds in the garden. My untested hypothesis is the great summer tree cull on the public land next to the house has opened up a new corridor into our garden. Last year the birds had plenty of cover in there to sing away in and generally thumb their noses at us (or should it be curl up their beaks?); this year they've had to come into our garden instead to replace the food and shelter those 4 trees gave them previously.
As a result we've frequently seen a variety birds on the patio for the first time this year. Previously they've mainly confined themselves to the bottom of the garden where my ongoing tally for the garden is 37 species. My heart is in my mouth whenever I see them. Whilst I love to see our visitors, I'm always mindful that Skimble and Jess will have an equal and hungrier view too. However, a welcome parade of wrens, blackbirds, robins plus blue and great tits continue to visit us daily in their live form. We also have some new nesting birds close to the house for the first time. NAH was just about to tackle the Clematis cirrhosa 'Balearica' at the side of the house when I noticed a pair of wrens making frequent visits. Our sentinal conifers on either side of our central patio steps are also playing host to a pair of gorgeous goldcrests.
The call of the female tawny owl I told you about previously, has now been replaced at 4am by an extremely loud song thrush. So far she's only visiting our lawn in the daytime, but the distinctive hammer on stone noises from the bottom of the garden show she's also swiftly despatching lots of our garden snail population. For that reason alone she's welcome, but as song thrushes are also on our endangered list in the UK (red status), I feel particularly privileged to have her here.
So my second contribution to Garden Bloggers Muse Day is dedicated to my garden bird visitors, particularly the thrush. It's a poem I found a couple of days ago by Ted Hughes:
Terrifying are the intent sleek thrushes on the lawn,
More coiled steel than living - a poised
Dark deadly eye, those delicate legs
Triggered to stirrings beyond sense - with a start, a bounce, a stab
Overtake the instant and drag out some writhing thing.
No indolent procrastinations and no yawning stares.
No sighs or head-scratchings. Nothing but bounce and stab
And a ravening second.
Garden Bloggers' Muse Day is hosted by Carolyn Gale over at Sweet Home and Garden Chicago.