Wild garden : making space for birds

 

A view from the garden. (Photo from personal collection)

Food

I stand at the sink, washing out my coffee mug, and look out on the garden. After breakfast and coffee, it's always time to go out and check on the plants and the birdfeeders.

Outdoors, the temperature is around twenty-one degrees Celsius, and the day feels fresh. Certainly more comfortable than those summer days earlier in the season, when the sun beat down oppressively.

The first task in my routine, I rinse out the birdbath, a makeshift thing made out of a planter dish, stones, and bricks. This removes feathers, leaves, seeds, and whatever else might be muddying the water. Cleaner water makes for a more pleasant bath/drink. Plus, running water draws attention, and not just from birds; I have noticed that wasps often fly in for a drink as I am pouring water into the bath.

Makeshift birdbath. (Photo from personal collection)

Next, I check the feeders. One, a seed feeder, lantern shaped with a circular lip running around the base that small birds can cling onto, feeding on seed that collects in the bottom. The other is a hollow ceramic cactus into which birds can enter and exit through holes on either side of the feeder.

I check the feeders for a few things. Firstly, to see what has been eaten. This is useful to check on everyday because, of course, I can top up as and when needed. Also, as I get to know how much the birds eat on a regular basis, I can better judge and adjust how much food I put out for the birds. Feeders don't need to be filled full. It is better to put out what you might expect to be eaten over two or three days. Food that is left for too long runs the risk of becoming mouldy, or attracting unwanted attention. 

Checking on what is eaten from the feeders on a regular basis will also enlighten me to any changes in the feeding habits of feathery garden visitors. This could be useful for a number of reasons, such as responding to changes in behaviour and needs as seasons change, or perhaps  might hint at changes in which birds are visiting the garden.

The suet feeder I check because of the reasons above, and also because, in my experience, they can be particularly vulnerable to certain circumstances. For example, during the hottest days of this summer, the suet feeder began dribbling its contents onto the ground below!

There are other, less direct ways that the gardener can go about feeding birds. The plants we cultivate and allow to grow in the garden ought to be bird friendly might produce seeds for hungry birds, and they might attract insects which birds will eat.

Native wildflowers are excellent because they are the flowers to which our native insects have adapted and with which they have evolved alongside.

Shrubs and trees also make for excellent hunting grounds, where Wren might flit into looking for insects and spiders to eat. And, it makes for great cover, should the smaller birds that feeders attract have to evade a predator – a Sparrowhawk has been a regular visitor here!

Please, don't vilify those birds and other animals which predate these smaller birds. They are only doing what they have always done. They cannot possibly be responsible for the dramatic declines in the last five or eight decades. None of them have developed extraordinarily more efficient hunting methods in that time. 

We might do better putting back some of the things we have removed from the landscape – hedgerows, shrubbery, wildflower meadows – before vilifying wildlife.

Health

Once a week, I clean the feeders and the bath – this is vital to providing a healthy space for birds in the garden.

Just as we humans are more susceptible to catching viruses and other ailments in spaces where we come together most often, the same is true of birds. This means that unclean feeders are a hotspot for diseases to be passed between birds.

Parasitic viruses, such as trichomonosis, can be passed from one bird to another through saliva. Faeces too, of course, should be cleaned for the same reasons.

In nature, when birds feed on fruit from trees, for example, that source of food will need time to replenish. And so, it will be some time before a number of birds visit that exact same spot again after other birds have fed there. However, birdfeeders, which are frequently refilled, will attract birds to the same spots over and over again. This increases the chances of cross infection between birds, and is good reason for keeping feeders clean.

I use a bucket, hot water, soap, and a sponge. Some feeders are easier to clean than others, it is true, but there are feeders on the market now which are designed to be easy to clean, precisely because it is acknowledged how important clean feeders are to the health of garden birds. However, with pipe cleaners, toothbrushes, nail files, or whatever tool you can get your hands on, you can get into those hard to reach places a little more easily.

As a little tip, the RSPB sells a birdfeeder cleaning kit, and other hygiene products, in their online shop – here.

And so, coffee mug cleaned – feeders and birdbath too – I can sit a while and watch. Bees and butterflies visit the budleia. Sparrows are holed up in the Philadelphus, sometimes flitting to the hawthorn or the budleia. A wren has visited before, and also took a liking to the budleia. Some don't like it, but wild visitors seem to love it.

The garden hums and buzzes and chirps with life. Allowed a little space, life comes. And it makes for a much more pleasant scene than a dull, manicured patch of lawn.

Thank you for reading.

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More Garden Birdwatching

 

A view from the garden. (Photo from personal collection)

Following the last post published to Monsta Wild, here's a few more birds spotted in a South east England countryside garden . . .

1. Garden warbler (Sylvia borin)

Image from rspb.org.uk

I spotted one of these nondescript little birds flitting from the hawthorn to the budleia, where it skulked behind the leaves and stems awhile. 

It's a plain little bird which, for me, made identification a tad more difficult – so much easier when the bird has an obvious and distinctive feature, and binoculars would help too. Thankfully, I had my pocket guide with me, and the way that the bird reacted to a Garden warbler call when i played it on my phone confirmed it for me. And gave me a better view.

It was my first time seeing this bird in the garden.

2. Long-tailed tit (Aegithalos caudatus)

Image from rspb.org.uk

In my experience, more likely to spot this bird in woodland, or in the hedgerows that line a field. But they do visit garden birdfeeders. And, oh, there's just something charming about these little birds!

The long-tailed tit is one of Britain's smallest birds, weighing 7-9kg. 

Look out for the long tail after which they are named on your feeders. Otherwise they are little balls of fluff, black and white with peachy colouring on the back, rump, and around the eye.

3. Great tit (Parus major)

Image from rspb.org.uk 

The biggest tit and a regular visitor to birdfeeders. 

At a glance, in its colouring, quite similar to the Blue tit, but the Great tit is quite a bit larger. And look for its solid black cap and the black stripe down its chest and belly.

4. Blue tit (Cyanistes caeruleus)

Image from rspb.org.uk 

One of the more familiar and frequent visitors to the feeders. A national favourite.

Much more likely to visit hanging feeders and raised tables, and rarely visits the ground. 

An always welcome little splash of colour and song in the garden.

5. Magpie (Pica pica)

Image from rspb.org.uk 

Often vilified for it's natural practice of taking eggs from the nests of songbirds when the opportunity presents itself. However, a study undertaken by the British Trust for Ornithology (BTO), commissioned by the RSPB, in which 35 years worth of data was poured over, suggests this vilification is unfair.

The study found that, throughout Britain, the number of songbirds was no different in those areas where there were more magpies to those areas where there were few magpies.

Magpies and small birds have existed side-by-side for the entirety of their existence on the planet, occupying the niches that they do and achieving balance. 

To help songbirds, we might achieve more by planting more shrubs in our gardens, rethinking the intensity of farming practices, and being inclusive of nature as we plan and build our infrastructure.

6. Jackdaw (Corvus monedula)

Image from rspb.org.uk 

Like all corvids, an intelligent and adaptable bird. Also, like other corvids, a target of dislike from some garden birdwatchers.

If Jackdaws visit your garden, and you want to keep them from birdfeeders intended for songbirds, simply offer these corvids a space on the ground to feed. They will probably prefer this to trying to navigate hanging feeders.

Also, consider that jackdaws will eat things smaller birds will ignore – pieces of meat, egg, windfall fruit, and scraps. Of course, only put out as much as you expect the birds will eat, and clean and tidy the area regularly. This ought to be standard practice with birdfeeders though. 

7. Starling (Sturnus vulgaris)

Image from rspb.org.uk 

From a distance, might appear uniformly black, but on closer inspection, this bird is iridescent. White feather tips also give it a speckled appearance.

In colder months, their murmurations are a spectacular natural sight. However, their numbers have declined rapidly in recent years and they now hold a place on the conservation Red List.

I have never seen a spectacular murmuration, and I hope that I, and future generations, don't miss that sight forever.

8. House sparrow (Passer domesticus)

Image from rspb.org.uk 

Another resident that has found it's way onto the conservation Red List.

The male has a black mask and a grey cap, while the females and juveniles are little more drab. 

A quarrel of sparrows in the garden isn't hard to miss; probably heard, if not seen, as they chirp and chatter from shrubs and thickets.

I hope you enjoyed this little snapshot of a birdwatch in an English country garden. And, thank you for reading. You can find the previous list of feathered visitors here.

If you can and would like to support this blog, you can buy the author a coffee here.

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Thank you again!

Garden birdwatching

 

One of the suet feeders, which struggled to maintain its form on hot days. (Photo from personal collection)

Ten birds spotted in the garden . . .

1. Pheasant (Phasianus colchicus)

Now and then, a male and a female pheasant visit the garden to peck at seed left on the ground.

The male is striking with his glossy green head and the bare red skin about the eye. The female is a bit duller, with her more uniformly brown feathers and shorter tail.

This gamebird is common throughout Britain's countryside, but it is an ancient introduction from Asia.

2. Common buzzard (Buteo buteo)

Not really spotted in the garden, but circling high above it, with its call like a kitten's meow.

I have seen a few of these birds flying throughout the village, and have been lucky enough to get closer views when out walking, when I have walked beneath one sitting hunched in a tree.

Like other raptors, this bird suffered in the past because of persecution and pesticide, but is recovering.

3. Red kite (Milvus milvus)

Another raptor spotted flying above the garden, this bird was recently very rare, but has been recovering because of careful conservation.

I have heard some speak in fear of this bird, that it might take off with dogs or cats. But, on average, this bird weighs less than an adult chihuahua; it would have to be a desperate Kite for it to attempt an attack on an animal that outweighs it!

A graceful raptor that deserves our respect and awe. 

4. Sparrowhawk (Accipiter nisus)

Now, this bird of prey has visited the garden, and not just flown over.

The male is about the size of a jackdaw, the female larger. The male is grey, with four or five bars on his tail, white underneath with peachy-orange barring. The female is similar but  as mentioned, larger, and the bars across her chest are darker. 

Pesticide poisoning in the past led to huge drops in the Sparrowhawk population, but it has recovered well.

5. Collared dove (Streptopelia decaocto)

First bred in Britain in 1955 in Norfolk, now found throughout Britain and Ireland.

This bird is fairly skittish, but comes in to feed on the ground, sometimes in pairs. It sits atop chimneys, fences, and aerials, calling a who-hooo-ho.

6. Woodpigeon (Columba palumbus)

The largest and most common pigeon. 

A plump bird. It flies across the sky with a few slapping flaps of its wings before it rises and soars in a glide. Like the Collared dove, it comes in to feed from the ground and whatever might have fallen from feeders.

If you have a problem with large pigeons trying to take food from feeders, simply leave a dish of seed on the ground. The smaller birds get access to the feeders and the pigeons will prefer feeding on the ground anyway – win-win!

7. Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes)

One of our smaller birds, I spotted this one flitting in and out of the budleia.

A little, rich brown bird, with its little tail cocked upwards. It prefers dense cover, loving scrubby vegetation. 

A beautiful little bird with a surprisingly loud voice for its size, I was more than pleased to see it in the garden – if I had had a camera I would now be sharing pictures of it perched upon my watering can!

8. Dunnock (Prunella modularis)

Could be confused with a house sparrow at a glance as it shuffles around under garden feeders.

It's plumage is quite like that of a sparrow, but with a blue-grey throat and breast. It often can be seen moving beneath feeders picking up what has fallen from above.

Common but sadly in decline. 

9. Robin (Erithacus rubecula)

The bird made famous by its association with Christmas time, and often considered the nation's favourite bird.

A common resident bird. 

Perhaps thought of, with its red-breast and melodic song, as a pretty little garden bird, these birds are very territorial, and disputes between Robin's can be violent.

10. Blackbird (Turdus merula)

We finish with another bird familiar to British gardens, with its lovely song. 

The males are black, a small ring of yellow around the eye, and an orange-yellow bill. Females are a dark brown, with a lighter throat, and slight streaking on the chest. 

The song of the blackbird is always a welcome melody.

Thank you for reading. My RSPB Pocket Guide to British Birds is always in my pocket when I am out in the garden or rambling footpaths, and I very much recommend it. 

This blog is not affiliated with the RSPB in any official manner, but I do believe in the work they do.

If you would like to support this blog, you can buy the author a coffee here, and/or, you can like, comment, share, and subscribe.

Thank you again!

Communing with nature, and nature lovers

 Capsicum and water droplets; sometimes nature is right outside the door. (Photo from personal collection)

As a lover of nature and wildlife, I often see my outdoor experiences as meditative, or as a communion with nature. On any long distance ramble, as I huff and puff through forests and fields, there is usually at least a moment of peace and clarity. Slivers of green and blue break through the concrete grey and black mirrors.

In today's posting, I want to reflect on, and look forward to, my interactions with nature and wildlife. And, I hope some of you might join me. 

Please do drop some of your answers to the following questions in the comments below.

How will you interact with nature today?

My most frequent interactions with nature happen in the garden. It doesn't matter what else is going on, how otherwise engaged I might be, I can make a minute or two, at least, to slip into the garden.

Personally, I am a fan of the unkempt and the overgrown. Whatever that means. The bees, the birds, the butterflies, and moths seem to like it too. Neighbours have their lawns and paving, but they don't seem to get quite as many wild visitors. And I know which I prefer. Life. Wildlife.

Yesterday, I watched a bumblebee visiting the flowers on my chilli pepper plants. A week or so ago, a wren flitted in and out of the budleia. A hummingbird hawkmoth regularly visits the budleia and red valerian. 

There is a lot of nature and wildlife just outside the door.

Do you have a garden? A balcony? Where will you go today?

Out walking, and sweating, in July. (Photo from personal collection)

How will you interact with nature this week?

When a day is free before me, when I want and need for nothing else, I love taking off on a countryside footpath and rambling for hours. That has been a constant for me since I was quite a bit younger. And the rambles were easier.

The physically exhausting experience of dragging oneself up and down hills, sweating and breathing harder, rewarded with nature and wildlife, is wonderful to me. Buzzards, red kite, swifts, swallows . . . All have passed overhead as I traipsed the outdoors this summer. All made me stop and wonder. They on wing, me on foot, for a moment together we  knew the struggle and peace in the transience of things.

Perhaps too, in walking long distances, over stretches of land untamed by slabs and pavements, there is a reconnection. A small step back to the ways of ancestors that better knew the ways of nature, and how to read its signs and clues.

How will you interact with nature this week? Are you a rambler too? Or, are you more inclined towards birdwatching in a hide?

Try anything new lately?

I am always learning, and there is always something new to discover. There are vast holes in my knowledge of the natural world and the wildlife around me. But, this is nothing to be ashamed of.

It doesn't matter whether you're taking your very first steps as a naturalist or your Chris Packham – none of us can possibly say we know all there is to know!

Our understanding of the natural world is ever evolving, in no small part because the natural world itself is ever evolving.

My pockets, my backpack, hold pocketbooks and guides to help me identify birds, flowers, leaves, and other things I don't recognise. I am ever learning, and the newest thing I did is probably going to be some scrap of knowledge I acquired. 

Identifying a flower, a bird, learning the difference between one call or song and another . . .

What about you? What have you learned recently? Or, have you had a brand new experience?

Where were you six weeks ago?

Six weeks ago, we were, globally, going through one of the hottest Julys on record.

The headlines told of rivers drying up. Landscapes that had been green weeks before were turning golden brown. And, here in the UK, we saw temperatures touch record breaking highs – over 40°C in places.

With drier, hotter summers a real possibility for the future, has this summer given you pause? What do you know of the consequences facing us if this becomes the norm? Or did you just welcome the summer sun?

Where will you be in six weeks time?

Autumn, winter on the way . . .

My mind turns to orange, brown, and red leaves littering the ground. I think of crisp, cooler days. I think of rain. I imagine those footpaths that, at the moment, are baked dusty dry, that will perhaps become mud.

In the garden, I will be thinking about preparing plants for winter. The strawberry plants that I will trim back when winter comes, and bed up with straw as they go dormant through the colder less sunny months.

Autumn is a time for preparation, as conditions change. A time for looking at what you have, being grateful, and a time for looking forward.

Nature and wildlife will also be preparing; gathering foods that will see them through winter, preparing for vast journeys, for some it is the time to breed . . .

In six weeks, we will be in early October. Where do you think you will be? How will your interactions with nature change? How will you have changed?

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this piece, or any other, you can buy the author a coffee here.

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Thank you again.

Love Our Footpaths Do

 

From me to you; your devoted blogger, and wanderer of countryside footpaths. (Photo from personal collection)

The fan beside my bed seems to succeed in only blowing hot air at me. But even that has been a slight relief during the hot nights this summer.

I love summer sunshine, but the heat of summer 2022 has been hard to bear some days, and nights.

However, I am still fairly young, and sort of fit. Emphasis on the "sort of" in that sentence. So I have dared to traipse footpaths around the village where I live some days. If you do not have a walking buddy, to hold your hand and make sure you stay safe, and hydrated, and you are brave/stupid enough, like me, to go out walking in the summer sun, make sure you take a fully charged mobile phone with you. Tell someone you trust where you are going, know as much as you can about the paths you are going to walk, and have the means to stay hydrated.

Also, money cannot buy you love, but it can buy you food and drink. And access to public transport. It's worth taking your wallet with you when going out for a ramble. 

A twisted ankle or some other unexpected change of circumstances is going to be a lot easier to navigate if you take this advice.

Wearing my backpack and my walking boots in the traditional manner, I walked through Stevington. A man, shirtless and bronzed, worked in his garden, sweat glistening. A woman cycled by, another woman walking beside her, sunglasses and smiles. And the sun beat down oppressively. 

I felt fine, offering nods, smiles, and greetings. 

However, it feels like weeks and weeks since anything more than a ten minute trickle has fallen from the skies. Temperatures have soared. Thanks to that, and my physique, I knew it wouldn't be long until sweat began to pour and my breathing was noticeably heavier. Thankfully, I was taking to more solitary paths, and others would be spared the sight of me.

I turned down a dusty dirt path and through a metal swing gate, onto a public footpath I know well. Once I got to know these paths, when I was younger, I preferred to use them rather than buses as a means of travel between villages. And sometimes even the longer trip into town. My legs, so far at least, have certainly been more reliable than the bus service.

I am an odd sort, I know. By the time I had reached the dusty paths that line the fields, the back of my shirt was sufficiently cool and soaked with sweat. I traipsed uphill, breathing heavy and wiping at my brow, through grass the colour of dull straw. But even this I enjoy. Common buzzard fly high, with their almost kitten-like calls. A kestrel flies from a wire, hovers overhead, and then is off. And then, there's me, a sweaty and pink-red fleshy mess, panting along, much less gracefully. But I love it.

Years and years ago, in those adolescent days that can feel like yesterday, I used to take off exploring footpaths with brothers and sisters. Or, just as happily, by myself. Later on, it was with my dog. It was a heady mix of calm and excitement I found on those footpaths. Sometimes one, sometimes the other, and sometimes the two mixed like osmosis.

Walking through a wood, coming upon a pair of deer or a fox on the path, is peace and excitement at the same time.

I made it into Bromham, the next village over, after taking the paths worn into the earth, the paths that line fields, that lead into woods. I thought about the cool of the wood nearby, the shade provided by the trees, and was tempted by the thought. Oh, what sweet relief!

But my intended route was into Bromham, to visit the local shop there – combining my joy of long walks with the domestic chore of purchasing a few rolls of toilet paper. So, off towards the village I headed.

By the time I was on the return leg of my walk, an observer would have found evidence of the day's heat in my appearance alone. The bottle of juice I had purchased in the local shop had been relief. But I probably would have needed four more bottles to replace the fluids I was losing in my sweat. My brow glistened and my back was damp. 

I endure a workout infrequently,  and really only to prove to myself that I am still capable of it. Just to check that my body hasn't descended into complete and utter uselessness. These long walks are really my only form of consistent exercise. However, a love of salt, sweetness, and alcohol keep a healthy amount of padding firmly on my frame. Still, the walks get me out of breath, and my heart pumping.

They also clear the head. I didn't really realise it at the time, but I think one of the main reasons I fell in love with long rambles as a teenager was that they got me out of my head. Riddled with anxieties, empty footpaths without taunting and demands were a safe space for me. And then, later on, I read about all those studies which have discovered all the ways in which being out in nature is good for the mind. How our brains are hardwired to recognise and be at one with the patterns in nature. How chemicals are released in the brain that reduce stress and anxiety. Yeah, that made sense to me. I already knew it, sort of.

When I arrived home from my walk, I was sweaty, tired, and happy. I was also in need of something icy cold. But I was happy. 

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Summer Reflections

 

Comma butterfly on yarrow. (Photo from personal collection)

It has been a while since I published a post here. And I am sure my presence has been sorely missed. So, with that in mind, I thought that I would take a little look back over my summer 2022 so far.

Perhaps the first thing to note of this year's summer, from a nature lover's perspective, as compared with the summers of the last two years, is that Covid-19 and lockdowns are not quite so present here, in the UK, as they were. There are pros and cons to this.

When lockdowns came into effect, and everyday activities had to adapt to an extraordinary situation, people found a great appreciation for the nature and wildlife they perhaps hadn't noticed before. Suddenly, mountain goats and deer were going viral, and everyone was taking to footpaths and waters for a little release. 

There were, unfortunately, facemasks and latex gloves discarded in the grasses and rivers, amongst the usual rubbish. This never made a whole lot of sense to me; why go so far as to use the PPE but then discard it so carelessly? Do you have any understanding of how viruses spread? 

Don't get it, never will. But then, I don't understand littering in general. Why is it that takeaway containers become too much to bear after they are empty? You can carry them down to the park when they're full of food? But it's too much to deal with, too far to the nearest bin, once you've filled your belly?

Bless.

Rubbish in the fields. I'm torn. Sometimes I wish there were more people out on the countryside footpaths. Then, I see this, and I think there's more than enough people out there. (Photo from personal collection)

Whenever I am able to do so, I pick up litter. It's not always possible. Out in the middle of nowhere, without gloves or a picker, or just an empty bag in which to place rubbish, it can be unwise, or even unsafe, to go picking up the rubbish.

To be honest, it is such a problem that any good hearted person must pick and choose which pieces of rubbish they pick up – otherwise you could spend your whole day picking up rubbish, never get where you're going, and not make a dent in the problem.

Bless those groups that volunteer their time for coordinated litter picks!

I fully support the move towards a circular economy for this reason, and others. In particular, government plans to roll out a recycling scheme that would see consumers get money back on purchases when they recycle containers might go some way towards improving the problem of littering. 

Customers, at the point of purchase, would pay a small deposit which would be returned when containers are recycled. For this reason, schemes like this are referred to as a DRS (Deposit Return Scheme). This does, of course, rely on collections and the recycling being done efficiently and effectively once consumers have done their part. Another concern is the speed at which the UK government is going to roll out this scheme – we're talking years!

Evening primrose. Opens in the evening – clue's in the name – just in time for the night-flying moths. (Photo from personal collection)

This sunnier time of year is great for watching flowers open and, hopefully, the visitors they attract.

The flowers I have planted all call pots and containers home, and I have been potting and re-potting as they've grown and needs have changed. The plus to potted plants, is that they are mobile, and they can be moved to keep in the sun. Or out of it, as the case may be.

Also, since they are contained, they are controlled. But, they are limited by the space they have. Hence the need for repotting and thinning out, so that they can reach full potential.

For me, first the daisies and the poppies came. And they did their jobs well – bumblebees buzzed inside the poppies, and the daisies attracted hoverflies and other bees. Other flowers and fruits have come through since, and it's a joy to watch, and to be a part of it.

My appreciation of plant life came via my appreciation of animal life. But, now that I have found it, I love plants for themselves too, not just their place in the ecological landscape. They are fascinatingly strong, resilient, and, I would argue, even intelligent!

Well, that's a little snapshot of my summer so far. A little recap blog post, a bit of a catch up, a bit of a ramble through some thoughts and feelings. I took some time away from  a few things in the last month or so, but I hope to get back on this blog regularly once again.

I haven't covered everything here, of course. There is the Big Butterfly Count to talk about, birds to discuss, and lots of walks to reflect upon. Plus, the plants in the garden could have a number of posts of their very own! But, there's plenty of time for all that in these long days of summer . . .

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