Lego’s built a bond in our house WINTER’S WILDLIFE
STUART WINTER
Whatever happened to Wingo, our friendly woodpigeon, remains a wistful dinner table topic.
He’s talked about with the same affection as a family pet, evoking fond memories of his garden visits when most rightminded birds were hunkered down because of the coldest snap in years.
Wingo arrived at the height of the Beast from the East with a thud on the dining room window.
The collision left him with a damaged wing that dragged along the ground – hence the nickname – but the injury never stopped him from foraging under the bird feeders when the countryside was blanketed with snow.
Not only did he survive the cruel winter of 2018, he returned the following year with his partner and youngster, and then remained a garden fixture for many months before vanishing. With a life expectancy of around three years, we muse that he must have migrated over the woodpigeon equivalent of the Rainbow Bridge.
Mealtimes are now dominated by a new woodpigeon with his own challenges – Lego.
The grandchildren came up with the name because of the way he hobbles on an injured left leg while vacuuming up seeds spilled by the sparrows, starlings and robins feasting from our feeders.
Lego must have only recently fledged – he lacks the striking white collar markings of adults – and almost every hour of the day he arrives to take on as much food as possible before falling foul of the resident pair of bullying woodpigeons.
They treat him appallingly, barging and bashing him with their wings, forcing him to limp away and eventually take flight, only to return when the coast is clear.
Maybe Lego is their squab from a previous nesting season – woodpigeons can breed most months of the year – and now they want him to find his own way in the world. Or he could simply be seen by them as a hungry interloper on their precious feeding patch.
Whatever Lego’s provenance, I would like to think he carries some of Wingo’s genes and has the strength and fortitude to overcome adversity.