Plucky white newcomers to the bird table sure to ruffle some feathers

With the ground frozen and the winter berries gone, the box of bird seed is fast disappearing.

Efforts are always made to make sure the little ones get the lion’s share.

But nature is by nature the survival of the fittest and the big boys are flexing their muscles.

Early morning and the pheasants are drumming the ground around the bird table – scattering when I arrive with a mix of grain and suet balls.

But they are soon back. Knocking the cage so the seed falls to the ground.

Yet among this year’s invasion are interesting additions.

This time three white pheasants feature in the flying corps line-up.

It is curious and much time is spent watching them from the kitchen window.

The chief, meanwhile, goes upstairs with his camera. And by being extra quiet manages to capture two of the trio.

I have never before seen a white pheasant. So where do they come from – and why have they landed here?

Of course, the eagle-eyed and more knowledgeable among you may already be putting pen to paper to tell me that these are not what we think they are.

It is not a white pheasant, but some other exotic bird with an unpronounceable name.

If so, mea culpa.

In the meantime, we must keep the MacNaughties well away from our honoured guests.

Because the strutting pheasant may be 10 a penny in the Scottish countryside but these roosters are rather rare.

They are game birds that come with “diplomatic immunity” on shoots.

Yet if the common-or-garden pheasant has a fancy cousin, birds in general have taken on a new importance during these lockdown days.

There are the cheeky sparrows and nippy thrushes that flit in and out of the bushes.

There is the cocky robin red breast who knocks on the window when breakfast is late.

And there are the half-dozen hefty wood pigeons that launch themselves from the roof from time to time.

Then there are the mean-eyed crows that sit hunched in the trees.

Yes, I know that they also need to be fed. But in their case, it is done reluctantly.

When it comes to birds, I am keen. But I am not yet a paid-up “twitcher”.

I would not travel a million miles to see a rare species.

Neither would I want to tick sightings off a list.

Yet I can see the attraction. And so, it seems, can others.

Tens of thousands are regular bird watchers.

Folk that would normally visit wildlife sites. In lockdown their eyes now trained on areas closer to home.

No, I am not a twitcher. But looking them up I see they have their own vocabulary.

According to twitching talk, I am a “dude”, a newcomer to bird watching.

While our rare, white and wonderful pheasant is a “megatick”.

You learn something new every day. And now, if you excuse me, I have to go and refill the bird table…

Fiona has tentatively identified the birds as white pheasants.