Splash of colour in winter
Another year has slipped away into the pages of history. As to whether it will come to be regarded as momentous or, indeed, a year of tribulations will, I guess, be decreed at some future time.
Is that light I see at the end of the tunnel … or a train heading in our direction? That there is already a tad more light during the mornings and evenings however, confirms that the year has turned. The winter solstice is behind us and although the worst of the winter’s weather may yet be to come, we are nevertheless heading inexorably towards spring.
Although the New Year opened on a cheerier note with plenty of sunshine, the old year had departed in melancholy mood. However, before the sun’s appearance, the local flock of jackdaws had celebrated the presence of brisk breezes to which they responded by hurling themselves around the sky in a truly joyous display. Grey skies or not, they were going to make the very best of times out of the very worst of times.
Their exuberant antics are somehow reminiscent of playtime at some schools I remember. The bell goes, the doors fly open and there are kids running every which way; some chasing, some being chased, involuntary games of “tig” sending some dodging the attentions of others. That’s exactly what those mischievous jackdaws seemed to be doing.
I thought I heard a little snatch of music a day or two prior to Christmas. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve found myself being serenaded during the festive season, for the bright lights of many a town or city and the extra heat provided by the Christmas lights can play tricks upon some avian carollers.
I remember taking a lastminute shopping trip to the capital city one Christmas Eve. Carols were blurting forth from various loud speakers, the lights were twinkling, and the traffic roaring, yet above all that din rang out the unmistakable song of a cock blackbird. His music seemed to emanate from the well-lit trees in the gardens and by the sound of it, he really was warming to the task, imagining spring was on its way!
And indeed, it was the sound of a sudden snatch of blackbird carolling that attracted my attention. Blackbirds are, of course, exceptionally adaptable birds, as familiar a sight out in the sticks as they are in many an urban garden or park. They are especially evident on my lawn where a host of them patrol in their constant search for worms. Innumerable numbers of them also spend hours beneath the bird-table picking up scraps dropped by the more adventurous and agile members of my avian community.
As the years roll by our local blackbirds must be quite miffed when from out of nowhere and utterly unpredictably, they find their winter berry reserves plundered almost overnight. It doesn’t happen every year for the culprits only come here occasionally.
Those eager berry consumers which, by contrast with the “all-black merles”, provide us with a real splash of exotic colour when they arrive usually in midwinter, are of course waxwings.
Every now and then we suddenly find ourselves playing host to large numbers of these Scandinavian birds which literally descend upon the remains of the berry crop like ravening hordes and thus temporarily overwhelm the blackbirds and any other consumers of berries by their sheer weight of numbers.
When they come – and there are numbers hereabout this winter – they more often than not descend upon the suburban and even urban areas where the planting of berry-bearing trees and shrubs gives them a first-class opportunity to demonstrate their utter avarice.
They feed with an enthusiasm that would put Jack Spratt’s wife to shame! For instance a daily intake of a thousand berries by an individual waxwing is by no means unusual.
When I see waxwings, I always think they really should come, not from the frozen Arctic but from somewhere in the tropics. They are so exotic looking with their prominent head crests, basic pinkish body plumage, striking black face masks and chins, flashing black, white and yellow wings, yellow tipped tails and otherwise, hints of grey and chestnut about them. The final embellishments are of course those brilliant red spots at the elbows of their wings, resembling drops of wax, which give them their name.
These visiting exotic hordes are worth looking out for and if you’re lucky enough to see them, just watch those berries disappear … like snow off a dyke! And then, when the berries are stripped, they simply move on leaving the blackbirds to ponder the empty branches.