Roe deer kids can be vulnerable at this time of year
For reasons best known to older generations of Highlanders, this was a signal for the persecution of the yellowhammer the yellow yorling of the verse, sometimes also known as the yellow yite. Boys were encouraged to harass yellowhammers, to raid their nests, steal or destroy the eggs and generally act aggressively towards them. No specific reason was given for this particular hate campaign but apparently in the north of Scotland it was an act carried out with some enthusiasm.
It might well have been a practice here also although in much more recent times, for the cheery ‘a little bit of bread and no cheese’ refrain, once to be heard from just about every hedgerow in this airt, has now fallen totally silent in many parts. I blame the heavy use of pesticides and herbicides for the demise of the yellowhammer and another official report backs up what I am saying with the information that the world’s insect population is thought to have reduced by a quarter during the past three decades. A fact which, at worst, is surely an early warning of some kind of disaster.
The causes thought to be the reason for this dramatic reduction are, habitat loss, pesticides, disease and climate change. Such news should really be the cause of some considerable concern and may well account for the fall in farmland bird numbers, many of them depending upon insects and the seeds of weeds for their survival.
We have developed a wide range of chemical weapons which are now arraigned against a whole range of ‘pests’ including the weeds upon which many birds, including the yellowhammer, feed extensively. As we develop and subject the natural world to various brands of chemical warfare, I sometimes think that too often we don’t stop to consider the consequences of our actions - short, medium or long term.
The antipathy in the north towards yellowhammers may well have emanated from the crazy scribbling markings on the eggs of the birds, which it appears were thought by some to be supernatural. It was believed that the name of a future lover could be deciphered from the scribblings! I’m hopeful that plans to plant wild flowers - many of them regarded as weeds - in various parts of our local countryside will soon be in hand and hopefully that will result in us being able to hear that familiar little ditty once again.
Meanwhile, a spell of acceptably dry and warm weather at least provided some relief from the dreaded coronavirus story. I was able to spend some time in my garden being serenaded by a whole host of birds and it made me think of people who do not enjoy the availability of a garden, let alone one which is very definitely the spring residence of so many birds.
The arrival of swallows in the vicinity is a further step towards summer and on the same day that their presence was confirmed, came the familiar downthe-scale cadence of a willow warbler.
Indeed, one has settled in my garden and so I am being serenaded by this minuscule bird every morning, afternoon and evening.
At one time, he was repeating that silvery verse five or six times every minute but occasionally he paused, presumably to change his perch and to feed on the insect life that clearly exists in my orchard.
From time to time, his little song was virtually eliminated by an even tinier bird, a jenny wren, whose volley of 56 notes issued in just over five seconds excludes almost everything else.
The decibel count goes up every time this tiny bird sings but also prominent was a blackbird in full flow.
Not many voices are sweeter and every passage evoked a response from another merle perched some yards away in a hedgerow which was particularly mellifluous.
There were also a dunnock issuing his rapid, high pitched offering, greenfinches wheezing away, the stuttering songs of chaffinches and a goldfinch offering particularly sweet bursts of music. The ‘tea-cher’, ‘teacher’ call of a great tit was loudly pronounced and blue tits, by comparison with the great tit, buzzed relatively quietly.
All the time, as a background of avian chatter, there were inevitably the interventions of house sparrows – ever present in this garden and as argumentative as ever,
A short burst of the ‘cuck-coo-coo’ of a collared dove was marginally less tuneful as were the raucous cawing of a crow and the chuckling of a magpie. However so far, I have yet to hear the offerings of thrushes and the local robins are surprisingly silent.
I suspect the female is already sitting on a clutch of eggs, for the male was certainly present picking up fragments of food from the lawn.
Of course May is a significant time for roe deer, for the month will at last see the production of this year’s next generation. Once the kids – usually twins but occasionally triplets - are dropped, the doe will visit each in turn in order to suckle and clean them and separated and well hidden in the vegetation, this is where those kids will stay for the first two weeks of their lives.
It is during these two weeks that roe kids can be very vulnerable to people stumbling across them during woodland walks, although with people, by and large, staying at home due to the virus that danger should be lessened at this time.
Years ago, I received a call to say that a roe deer kid had been found and I went to see what I could do to help.
The finders were a group of children, who had been so entranced by their discovery, that they had stroked the animal which instinctively would have frozen on the spot rather than run away. When I got there, she was in a cardboard box in someone’s kitchen! Having been stroked so enthusiastically she would, in any case, have been rejected by her mother so I reluctantly took her home and reared her.
She stayed with us for some 10 years and was utterly tame feasting on rich tea biscuits and strawberry jam sandwiches at any opportunity!
If you do manage to indulge in some woodland walking in these next few weeks and you should come across a young roe deer kid, it is vital that you do not touch it.
Leaving a human scent on a roe kid is a death sentence, so please leave well alone!
These are strange times in which we live. We have to deny ourselves the pleasure of strolling through woodland at a time when the bluebells provide a luscious carpet of blue not to mention that delicious perfume. Perhaps many of us will miss that May-time treat this year but if we all survive, it will be worth it at the end of the day. Keep safe.