The Clerk in the Country

Friday 11th March 2022

Flying home

In the depths of winter the garden here seemed devoid of birdlife.  The various types of food festooning the bush outside the kitchen window remained untouched.  All I saw were pigeons.

Then one day in January there was a twittering overhead and an unregimented group of medium-sized birds descended into a nearby tree.  I ceased to regret that I’d failed to harvest all the apples.  Not wasted after all but a feast for a flock of Fieldfares.

Since then the “magic” bush has been visited by increasing numbers of garden birds, mostly arriving in pairs: Blue and Great Tits, Blackbirds, a Robin, choosing the highest twig for its perch, and, filling the air with its “cheep cheep cheep trillillill cheep cheep” from the roof of an old barn, the unmistakable figure of a Wren, tail aloft.

The other morning I spotted an old friend, darting through the air to the yard, where he proceeded to dash about in a series of straight lines.  Welcome back, Mr “Watch out for your wing mirrors” Wagtail!