First Frogs
They're
here again: three frogs, the first of many, at the shallow
end of the garden pond, which had been ice-covered for most of the last
week. It's a thrill to me that a truly wild animal - something as extraordinary
as a frog (well, it is extraordinary, when you think about it) - comes
into our back garden
and goes through it's rather dramatic mating routine: lots of croaking,
threat and bluster, watchful jewel-like eyes just above the surface: a
spring spectacular of sex and violence (threatened if not actual); the
staple of sensationalist drama.
Regulars
But I mustn't forget the regular cast of characters in our long running
back garden soap.
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The Return of the King
The cock pheasant strolls down the garden path
from the meadow regularly, takes a leisurely drink from the pond
and comes and pecks, aristocratically at the ground feeder on our
patio. |
Three's a Crowd
I wish I had a nestbox, or an old teapot, in place on the shed
for the robins. We've got three of them regularly
coming to the ground feeder and peanut feeder, or, more often, just
pecking around. When they've finished chasing each other I'm sure
the remaining pair will settle down to nest. |
Tit for Tat
The coal tit (sometimes 2 or 3 coal tits) has
been a regular at the bird table. Usually they get chased off by
the resident blue tit which has taken a claim on the nestbox on
next door's wall. |
Irregulars
And the not so frequent visitors which have been turning up lately:
Richard Bell, richard@willowisland.co.uk
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