Embrace the wild to stop birds from becoming suet scroungers

First they came for our bags of seeds and told us off for feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square. Then they came for our children’s bread crusts and outlawed feeding the mallards in the local park.

And now they have come for our peanuts and those fat balls that blackbirds so enjoy and have warned us that feeding birds in our gardens could kill. This, just a week after the RSPB explicitly told us to provide our feathered friends with life-saving vittles to see them through the unseasonal spring snow. Having done just that – and in my case, dutifully mashed up apples for the robins and thrushes – we suddenly find ourselves accused of killing them with kindness.

Research by the Zoological Society of London and the British Trust for Ornithology has revealed that bird tables and feeders are spreading disease by bringing together species which would never naturally be in contact and therefore have no immunity to certain health conditions.

As the owner of an urban garden, with a bird feeder hanging from a gnarled old apple tree, I feel utterly dismayed. The innocent hours of pleasure we’ve had watching the blue tits squabble and handsome goldfinches drop by obviously weren’t nearly so innocent after all. By way of further reproach there’s an extra kicker; feeding birds risks them becoming reliant and unable to fend for themselves. That’s why they return; not because they appreciate the light snack, but because we’ve turned them into suet scroungers.

It’s all rather bleak because dunnocks and their ilk bring us such joy, especially in the city, where it can sometimes feel hard to connect with Mother Earth.

“Everyone likes birds. What wild creature is more accessible to our eyes and ears, as close to us and everyone in the world, as universal as a bird?”. So says no lesser an authority than Sir David Attenborough.

So, what to do? To recalibrate our relationship with wildlife, we must first re-imagine our gardens from a bird’s perspective and allow a little chaos to creep in.

Ivy attracts insects which robins and wrens love and their black berries are a feast for starlings and jays. Sparrows, goldfinches and buntings will make a meal of teasel seed heads. Rotting logs will encourage invertebrates; nettles are a breeding ground for juicy caterpillars

And, lest we forget it, from the informal landscapes of Capability Brown to the woodland plantings of Gertrude Jekyll, British gardeners have always stayed mellifluously in tune with the natural world. In 18th century Europe, an “English Garden” was synonymous with a relaxed Arcadian idyll, in contrast to the stiff Baroque geometry of the Gardens of Versailles.

So, let’s return to our roots and introduce a little mayhem. As a child I recall reading my mother’s copy of The Daily Telegraph; in the Weekend section was the following advice: “No matter how small your garden, do give over at least an acre to wild flowers”.

A few acres may be pushing it, but surely we can all spare a few square metres? Glorious disorder is nature’s order, however it might offend suburban sensibilities.

The gains will far outweigh the losses; sustainable, eco-friendly, a tiny wilderness oasis. And that precious larder of thistles and leaf mulch, worms and larvae will not only feed your avian visitors but ensure that only birds of a feather will flock together.