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Our parakeet population has soared in the past few years. Susy Smith ponders the annual arrival of the exotic invaders in her garden
Susy Smith on the frustrations around her avian garden invaders
There is a huge cherry tree outside my bedroom window. It’s clearly been there for many years, as it is taller than the house, and its gnarled spread dominates both my garden and that of my neighbour. Research tells me it is Prunus padus ‘Colorata’, the pink-flowered form of the bird cherry. The RHS gave it an Award of Garden Merit and, as it doesn’t come true from seed, this and all existing trees are clones of the original, discovered in Sweden in the 1950s. Wow! I thought, when I moved in – this is going to be some show! And how right I was: each spring it begins with deep purple leaf buds and stems, bronzing into a coppery tone as the leaves unfurl.
The blossom appears next – beautifully pale pink delicate flowers hanging on long racemes. It is a thing of immense beauty. And this is when it all goes wrong. Almost as soon as the blossom appears, it starts to fall. Strange, I thought that first year. On closer inspection, I could see flashes of vibrant green: ring-necked parakeets, dozens of them, hanging from the branches and swaying in the breeze, were eating the buds and discarding the blooms all over the lawn.
And so it goes, every year – when flocks of 30 or more descend on the tree and remain there until almost no flowers are left. Then, when the small fruit form, the invaders are back, gorging on the sour berries and dropping the stones all over the grass, paths and terrace. I guess it’s not called the bird cherry for nothing. I am incensed. Always. I launch into Boudicca mode – letting out bloodcurdling yells as I charge from the back door, brandishing a yard brush. No response. I run upstairs with handfuls of gravel and throw them from my bedroom window. A couple of the bright birds fly off but they’re soon back – with reinforcements.
And don’t even get me started on the bird-feeder debacle! The peanuts, seed and fat-balls we hang out attract goldfinches, blue, great and coal tits and occasionally a spotted woodpecker. Robins and dunnocks hop around underneath, picking up anything that’s dropped. They’re a delight to watch, but no match for the Dayglo invaders. The parakeets arrive and chase everything else away.
They are soon joined by those other immensely successful invaders, the grey squirrels. Even though our feeders are encased in cages, it makes no difference. The parakeets squabble and bicker to get a spot, then stick their heads through the mesh to eat the peanuts. The squirrels perform the most ingenious and acrobatic feats to get at anything – even the niger seed for the finches. A recent report by the British Trust for Ornithology suggests there are now approximately 27,000 parakeets in Britain – an increase of 10,000 since 2012. Originally from Africa and southern Asia, this exotic species has been colonising the south of England since the 1950s and they are on the move, most recently recorded as far north as Edinburgh and Glasgow. It’s believed the first few came from a private collection or, some say (and it’s a better story in my view), from the film set of The African Queen at Pinewood Studios in West London. Their success is a re-run of how grey squirrels colonised our islands, ousting the smaller, shyer red squirrel and driving it almost to extinction. But here’s the thing, we may have brought it on ourselves: the BTO suggests our habit of hanging bird feeders has helped the invaders get a foothold. Aside from the wholesale theft of my cherry blossom and bird seed, though, is there really a problem? Well, yes – apart from being aggressive towards other birds and taking any food available, parakeets commandeer nesting holes that traditionally would have been used by starlings and woodpeckers (now on the RSPB endangered list) and, essentially, there are too many of them. But a recent experience gave me food for thought. A college friend of my daughter’s was visiting from Cornwall. We were sitting at the garden table when her eyes widened and her mouth went into a perfect round. “Look, look!” she exclaimed, pointing at the bird feeders. “Parrots!” “Oh yes,” my daughter replied with a resigned tone. “The parakeets.” Realising their appearance elicited no surprise, the friend said, “Oh, are they your pets?” We laughed at the idea; but she had never seen them before and was entranced. She couldn’t believe they were wild and that they came to our garden regularly. How lucky you are, was her conclusion. And so, it seems, that, as with many things in this life, beauty really is in the eye of the beholder.
NEXT MONTH Susy muses on new beginnings in the garden in April.