Sunday 18 March 2018 Bullfinch in breeding plumage. They're so handsome and they invariably come to feed together: his breast like the budding cherry blossom and the terracotta pots where they forage for fallen sunflower seeds. Her plumage is more muted, complementing his in pattern.
Once again the yard is swept clean of snow, an abrasive scouring by the east wind. A newscaster's voice tells of the plight of wildlife exposed to sub-zero temperatures and wind-chill as winter and spring slog it out.
Once again the yard is swept clean of snow, an abrasive scouring by the east wind. A newscaster's voice tells of the plight of wildlife exposed to sub-zero temperatures and wind-chill as winter and spring slog it out.
A blackbird bullies a song thrush as they compete for yesterday's fallen sunflower-seeds. I fill a milk jug with seeds and tiptoe over ice to lay out their breakfast along the top of the wall, spreading the seeds to give smaller birds a chance to avoid bully blackbird. Blackbird: a puritan with a banana in his mouth, says J A Baker, author of The Peregrine. His work is crammed with imagery of the kind I like, organic and of the natural world. This one I find discordant. If I saw bananas the colour of the blackbird's stabbing beak I'd give them a miss.
You might think on such a bitter morning the birds would come quickly to feed on fresh seed. A wintry sun struggles through cloud and the east wind blusters and pierces the least chinks in the window-frames. Even double-glazing struggles with this wind that swings the bird-feeders so violently that birds cannot feed. A blue-tit looks weather-worn and scruffy- perhaps it's simply age. As if the invasive wind penetrates feathers, through to the skin.
I'm on the look-out for my gold-crest but have not seen it again. But feeding the birds has brought the bullfinch, blue tits, great tits and coal tits. Dunnock are singing everywhere and yesterday I saw the first amongst a cluster of sparrows.
Photographing birds through double glazing isn't ideal. Although I'm enjoying watching visitors and admiring them in their best breeding plumage.
You might think on such a bitter morning the birds would come quickly to feed on fresh seed. A wintry sun struggles through cloud and the east wind blusters and pierces the least chinks in the window-frames. Even double-glazing struggles with this wind that swings the bird-feeders so violently that birds cannot feed. A blue-tit looks weather-worn and scruffy- perhaps it's simply age. As if the invasive wind penetrates feathers, through to the skin.
I'm on the look-out for my gold-crest but have not seen it again. But feeding the birds has brought the bullfinch, blue tits, great tits and coal tits. Dunnock are singing everywhere and yesterday I saw the first amongst a cluster of sparrows.
Photographing birds through double glazing isn't ideal. Although I'm enjoying watching visitors and admiring them in their best breeding plumage.
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