How pigeon power has opened my eyes to the natural world on my doorstep

OVER the past couple of weeks, on days when I work from home rather than go into Derby, I have found myself in the company of a new pal. His (or hers) inquisitive eye stares at me from the patio as I sit typing away from the dining room table.

And I would love to tell you it is a local neighbour’s cat or kitten, but it is not. It’s a feral pigeon.

He (or she) clearly has an injured wing as, unlike the others of its kind who fly away from the garden the second I step outside, this one trots around the corner with its head bobbing away like the old comedian Max Wall.

I am yet to give it a name – for goodness sake it’s a feral pigeon – but there is something a little comforting seeing it waiting for me as the day breaks and I take the bird seed to the feeders.

With us having a resident fox or two in our local area, each morning I expect not to see my feathered friend, but maybe it’s either good at hiding and the brush-tailed carnivores either can’t find it or have other prey to pursue.

Whichever is the answer, and despite most people’s reservations that such a bird is nothing more than a disease-ridden flying rat, I don’t mind this little fella or lass hanging around.

I love garden wildlife as a whole anyway and regular readers might recall my ongoing plight to find a squirrel-proof bird feeder which I craved in an article I penned during the first lockdown last year.

The truth of the matter is that I really don’t mind seeing them in the garden as it offers a ray of light and a piece of life on the lawn and in the surrounding trees and bushes.

Often I feel we fail to recognise the abundance of creatures that surround us in our everyday world.

The thieving magpie cackling in the oak tree, the cocky robin belting out his song from the wall and even my bushy-tailed nemesis who has been testing my patience over the past 18 months or so.

All are part of the fabric of the outside world which we sometimes forget to immerse ourselves in.

My own knowledge of birds has increased multifold since I became an RSPB member a few years ago and

Mrs Naylor bought me a decent set of binoculars to spot them with. While I’m far from being an East Midlands Chris Packham, I can certainly tell you a kestrel from a sparrowhawk and that the thrushsized chap with the blue flash in his wing who occasionally drops by is a jay.

I can tell you the difference between a blue, great and coal tit and likewise know a greenfinch from a goldfinch.

On our last holiday – far too long ago – in the Lake District, I heard the distinctive call of a cuckoo and then got myself overexcited when I actually spotted the reclusive male, from whom the call was coming, in the lower branches of a tree. Perhaps my appreciation of nature is increasing as I get older and find pleasure in the simpler aspects of life. Whatever it is, I’ll keep on putting a small bit of seed aside for my new work companion until either he (or she) has had enough or one of the local Basil Brushes finds them. Like it or not, that’s the natural world for you and perhaps we should all open our eyes a little more as to what it can offer us in terms of small pleasures?

I feel we fail to recognise the abundance of creatures that surround us in our everyday world.