Africa-bound bonny birds

We have been hearing from our daughter how much pleasure she and her husband have had from a flock of wheatears that took up residence in their garden in late summer after the birds had finished breeding. They live in a cottage overlooking Auchterarder, surrounded by farmland, old hedges and rough land – an ideal habitat for wheatears to forage for the insects that form their diet.

They are bonny birds, summer migrants from Africa, about the same size as a house sparrow and easily recognisable by the prominent white patch on their rump when in flight.

A flush of peach plumage on the throat and breast turns to gold when the sun falls on it.

They’ll often begin calling before daybreak and Cait first became aware of their arrival in the garden when she was woken about 3am by what sounded like someone throwing chuckies on the gravel outside the bedroom window. This creaky call is typical of the birds. Their name has nothing to do with ears of wheat.

In Victorian times, they were regarded as a savoury delicacy.

Thousands were trapped as they crossed into the south of England on their migration north.

By the time you read this, the wheatears will likely be gone on the start of their 18,000-mile migration over sea, mountain ranges and desert back to central and southern Africa where they overwinter.

Theirs is one of the longest small bird migrations and it is staggering to think a bird that hatched six months ago can undertake such an enormous journey.

What could we humans achieve if we could harness our energy in the same way?

Far-travelled grandson

Our grandson Fergus is away for 11 months in Nepal as a volunteer with Project Trust teaching English to an outlying rural community.

We shall miss him, but the marvels of modern communication mean we can speak to him face-to-face on FaceTime.

From the pictures he has sent so far, Nepal is reminiscent of the remote Border glens, but more wooded.

And of course, the country itself is much bigger than Scotland, being home to the Himalayas.

Fergus took his kilt with him with the idea that it would create opportunities for cross-cultural discussions.

It doesn’t seem to have worked, as the children are helpless with laughter at the idea of their schoolteacher wearing a skirt.

His first experience of local culture was fairly brutal when a rabid dog wandered into the village.

An animal in that condition is a danger to humans and animals and must be despatched.

The local solution was to tie a boulder round its neck and throw it in the river.

Fergus is there to teach and if he is successful the experience may open up opportunities in a wider world for the children, bringing a different tolerance and understanding and perhaps a change in cultural views.

He is paired with another Scot, Hector from Edinburgh, who is on a similar project. They’ve left home comforts behind them.

Accommodation is a concretefloored hut which is upmarket from the earth floor they were expecting.

They cook, eat, sleep and live in their hut. Toilet facilities are a squat loo.

This is just the start of his adventure and he’ll come home a very different young man.

Harvest and hedgehogs

As the harvest progresses, the countryside is taking on its familiar autumn look of corn yellow stubble fields.

It’s wonderful to have so many big fields for Inka to stretch himself out in and to now have lots more choices for walks.

Some nights ago, out with Inka on his last walk, the Doyenne found an adult hedgehog. Not great news on its own, but always encouraging to see one of these once-common animals which are now in serious decline. Earlier this week, she found a juvenile hog on the grass outside the house and our neighbour quickly took a picture to show his three-year-old daughter.

Hedgehogs are the gardener’s friend, eating slugs and other nasties, and anything we can do to encourage them into our gardens has to be beneficial.