New guests take up residence in my holey old roof
OUR roof is in need of repairs, with slates slipped and cracked and the ageing cement along the hips and ridges crumbling.
It has weathered the years well since this house was first built in the late Victorian era, but a little tidying up work is now required and booked in for later this summer.
In the meantime, however, it is proving quite a draw to avian guests.
House sparrows nest under the outermost edge of the roof and amid gaps where the wind has dislodged slates which hang on the westerly wall.
And a new species has just moved in – the starling.
I get very few starlings in my garden, so to see one perched on the roof gutter singing away was a first.
I say ‘singing’, but the wheezy rattling renditions are more like experimental electronic improvisations from a special effects sound lab than the more tuneful fluty songs typical of birds.
The starling pair have created a nest of straw tucked away in the corner of the roof, gaining access where the slates on two sides meet – or rather don’t quite meet.
And they make for a handsome sight, with their glossy plumage gleaming in the spring sunshine, peppered with light spots.
Starling numbers have declined markedly over recent decades and they are on the Red List of British birds of greatest conservation concern, along with house sparrows, so I’m happy to provide temporary lodgings during the breeding season.
If you think the notion of pink for girls and blue for boys is old fashioned, it rings true when it comes to telling starling sexes apart. The base of the beak in male starlings is blueish, but light pinkish with females – though you need binoculars to spot such a subtle difference.
Starlings are most impressive in numbers – those swirling winter gatherings known as mumurations.
My roof may have a few holes in it, but not quite enough to provide nest sites for an entire flock! However, I’m happy for a single pair to make it their home this spring.