p.s. The Starlings

On yesterday's entry I forgot to mention our iridescent friends the starlings and this morning, looking through the kitchen window whilst spooning up my breakast porridge, there they were to remind me.

They always fly, perch and feed in exclusive groups, these occupiers of a special place in our garden's pecking order. Above the finches and sparrows and below the blackbirds and thrushes. Just a matter of size and weight, I guess, just like everything else.

Yesterday I said that the rowan berries would be next on the menu for our sparrows. I spoke too soon. This morning there was hardly a berry to be seen, just a dark flurry of dozens and dozens of those bright eyed starlings busily stripping the tree - and in very short order.All too soon now they will be lined up cheek by jowl on the sagging overhead electricity cable that powers our cottage, chattering and twittering (real twittering), perhaps comparing navigational notes as to their forthcoming migration or maybe just gossiping about the quality of the berries this year or telling each other tales of false derring-do when they saw off a sparrowhawk, or such. Just like us in fact. The world economy won't come into it but global warming might.

I am reminded also of my failure, yesterday, to mention any of the tits. An unlikely omission. Yes, we have coaltits, bluetits, great tits and long tailed tits at our table. Just not at this season for some reason or other.

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