Garden birding
Watching the once-almost-extinct Red Kites soar above her back garden brings nothing but joy for Clare
Red Kites soaring above her garden bring nothing but joy to Clare
The airspace above my house is dominated by Red Kites. Their distinctive squeak announces their arrival before I even spot them. I look up to watch them circle overhead and then look back towards the conservatory, where my two bunnies are peering out to see whether I’m bringing them a handful of dandelions. The rabbits are naturally curious and despite living indoors and with a casual attitude to danger (the vacuum is regularly chased), they are alert now, periscoping at the very sound of the kite. The cry of the kite is quite alarming and while I’ve seen so many since we moved to the country, I can’t help but be mesmerised by their elegant acrobatics – swooping
and gliding, twisting and turning. And with a wingspan of about six feet. I mean, wow! They’ve never set claw in the garden itself but I wonder what they’d do – or rather eat, if they did. Firstly, after significant research via everyone’s favourite search engine, I discover that, providing I keep feeding them, the bunnies will be relatively safe, because a kite’s feet are generally too weak to tackle my two little porkers. Most of the garden birds will be safe, too, but – and this is news to me – kites love earthworms. You’ll remember I felt very sorry for the worms last month and since then, I’ve been careful, moving them out of the way when I’ve been digging in the veg bed. So careful my dad exclaimed: “I’ve never known someone to stop so much – I don’t think you should be a gardener”. All being well, I shall be able to continue making a living from writing about things and not actually doing them, I think. The greatest thing about writing this column is discovering facts that I can shout across the room to anyone who happens to be nearby. I don’t care if I’m working in a café or an office,
everyone needs to know about birds and they will stop what they are doing to listen. The emphasis there is on will. It’s more of a command than an invitation. I also discover the kind of tales that the papers gobble up on a slow news day – ‘a sparrow stole my sausage’, or ‘a Peregrine took off with my poodle’. While these stories may make the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile, they do have a certain element of caution within. In Victorian times, kites were pretty much killed off by enthusiastic gamekeepers, who believed they were vermin. But, in medieval times, these birds were revered by many as they helped to keep the streets clean. Yes, kites are scavengers and they are delighted by road kill – it saves them a job. More recently, some bird lovers have been trying to entice them into their gardens, much to the dismay of neighbours. I would love to see one up close, but I draw the line at buying them locally-reared organic meat and serving it up on a perch-perfect pedestal. After all, these majestic birds are not garden birds. They might hover above my garden, but that’s exactly where they belong – something that will provide some comfort to the rabbits when they are out in their run this summer. Elsewhere in the garden, it’s nest building time and I was keen to make sure all the bird boxes were up ready for them. I found a tree that was already a popular hangout for Blue Tits, went to the shed and with some assistance, nailed the bird box to the tree. It took only a couple of days before the first prospective dweller appeared and I nearly clasped my hands to my heart like they do in films when they are awestruck by beauty. For the next few days, I watched the Blue Tit tentatively poke about the place and was willing it to take up residence, mainly, so I could tell you about it. One morning, however, after particularly high winds, I found the bird box in the bush below the tree and knew I had to act fast if I was to have any occupants this spring. Naturally, I did what any self-respecting 30-something woman would do – I asked my dad if perhaps, he had some more suitable fixings than me and maybe a better ladder. Then when he next came around, there’s a high chance he did it for me and you know that bird box is now not moving for love nor money. That’s the beauty of dads. In the garden, the males of the species are getting ready to sack off nights out in favour of paternal duties, and watching these families start a new era is something that brings me a lot of joy. And that is most definitely worth clutching my heart over.