Woodpeckers
The only grumpy visitor has been our resident male pheasant, upset that a new greenhouse meant its favourite pastime of sneaking in to remove seed labels was over. Its mate had nested in a nearby flowerbed last year – being discovered after hissing at my wife when she stepped too close. Sadly, the egg clutch was later poached by the local fox.
We have loved watching and listening to song-thrushes using strategically placed stone anvils to break open their favourite, brown-lipped snails – leaving broken shells of multiple-colours and patterns. The discovery by Oxford scientists in the 1950s still appears to hold true – discarded shells are mostly yellow in winter when the ground is covered in leaves, and pink or brown against a green background in summer.
Rarely do we see a mistle thrush though. The pre-Christmas freeze did bring insect-foraging visits to the leaf mulch under the Japanese maple by two other thrush family members – redwings and fieldfares. It also increased the skirmishes between our six robins – each determined to claim unfair portions of food put out for them. Other winter sounds have included the return of the tawny owls – one perching nightly outside the bedroom window, noisily calling its mate – and the delightful high-pitched squeaks of goldcrests foraging hidden bugs among the needles of old, recycled Christmas trees.
Spirits always lift when early morning frosts create their seasonal magic, as frozen spiderweb carpets meander across the lawns and undergrowth. As only half of British spider families build webs, it’s reassuring to know the garden provides shelter for many of them. Snow flurries lasted just long enough to enjoy another seasonal pursuit – identifying the myriad tracks created by our small mammal and bird residents.
Country Mouse