The nightingale (is hard to spot)

Spring is the most vital, exciting time for nature. 'Spring is sex; Summer the lazy post-coital wallowing. Autumn is the sepia-tinged death of the relationship; Winter the lonely wander through the wilderness.' 

In spring the birds sing. They properly sing, to show off their vocal cords, because a male with a strong resounding voice will make a good mate, he will have good genes to pass on.

One of the most striking spring birdsongs is that of the nightingale. Unfortunately you won't hear one in the town. I once told an RSPB woman that I thought I saw one in the St. Nicholas rest gardens near my house and she flatly told me this was impossible. I think it's because nightingales make their nests in low bushes and this wouldn't be workable in the town with all the cats and foxes.

Almost exactly this time last year we went on a pilgrimage to Pulborough Brooks to find some nightingales. For only a short time in May they sing and their juicy alarm-like piercing song is easy to distinguish. We heard them alright but they are difficult to spot, and rather innocuous looking besides, just a dull browny-grey colour blackbird sized bird. Their evolutionary allowance was spent mostly on their song.

Here is the video I took of what we saw and heard of the nightingales at Pulborough Brooks: (you can also hear a robin, chiff chaff and great tit in the background)

Peregrine update: Pigeon feast

Three of the four eggs have hatched now and the chicks are quickly growing into fluffy white trainee-killers. It's not looking good for the egg that hasn't hatched. It's often left exposed; I think the parents have given up on it. In fact, I think it's gone now. Maybe they ate it.

If you're lucky, you can see a gory mealtime, you can watch as the mother methodically rips chunks of dead pigeon and feeds them to the gaping chick mouths. She crunches down the less easily digestible parts for herself, like the legs.

There is a slightly smaller chick who must be the youngest, and he struggles to get a share of the pigeon. He strains and pushes but he can't reach the proffered flesh. His siblings have longer necks and the strength to shoulder him away. We were worried that the small chick might slowly starve in this fashion, but a pigeon's raw meat goes a long way and soon the bigger chicks are getting full and the small one can assert his hungry desperation. 

And then there are long periods of inactivity. The mother still incubates the hatched chicks to keep them warm and from time to time she writhes about as if the chicks are making her uncomfortable. The whole family are rarely seen together. Even at night. When the chicks grow up the parents can spend more time together, content in the knowledge that this year's breeding has been completed successfully.


See the webcam here. 

A jay on the way to Stewart Lee

Me and Rose were on our way to see Stewart Lee and we were walking along the street where we had previously spotted a song thrush (read about here). It was a damp dusk and in the distance, Rose spotted a medium-sized bird on the rooftop of one of the houses. I thought it was a pigeon. Rose thought it was a jay. It was a jay. Bouncing about along the rooftop and splashing in the water in the gutter, he was friendly or oblivious and didn't mind people watching him. He was probably showing off his springtime virility.

The jay is a corvid, a member of the crow family, but unlike the deathly dark mantle of their cousins, their feathers are rusty brown and black and white, rather like a giant chaffinch, but with a striking electric blue wing feather and black moustache. They are the dandies of the crow family and their raspy calling is like a leering smoker's beckoning.

We watched the jay for a little while. It's an attractive bird and not often seen round here. As we were conspicuously craning our necks, a woman walked past. She saw the bird and our interest in it. She asked if it was a woodpecker. Then the jay flew off into a tree to meet his wife, presumably, who was pottering about on a branch. I think they had just moved to the area for spring and were collecting material for their new home.