The adaptability of the blackbird has helped it thrive alongside humans
The blackbird may well evoke a stronger sense of connection than any other bird. Our affection for these familiar garden visitors is largely universal and they’re certainly exceedingly characterful.
There are endless stories of unusually tame blackbirds entering houses or displaying other habits so specific that individuals can be distinguished from one another. They can be remarkably approachable and their perky nature has them hopping around our lawns in a somewhat indignant manner, flicking their tails and viciously tugging earthworms from their subterranean habitat. You may spot them ‘cocking’ their heads as they listen carefully for the faintest of movements underground, but they’ll also happily feast on kitchen scraps. The striking male, black with a bright yellow-orange beak and yellow eye-ring, is handsomely unmistakable.
The female is altogether more modest, her mottled sooty-brown plumage lending her a thrush-like appearance. Both have a huge repertoire of calls but the male sings the quintessential song of the English summer, a fruity melodic warble loved by so many. His carefree song, almost in major key, indisputably ranks the blackbird as one of the UK’s favourite songsters – but he also has a remarkable capacity for mimicry. This includes other birds and even those sounds created by humans and our technology, from jaunty whistling to a wailing car alarm. A song of greater depth, contrast and variety is undoubtedly a benefit and may be the difference between successful and unsuccessful breeding, so adapting his song in this way may well offer a competitive advantage. The blackbird’s strong association with humans is a relatively recent occurrence. Historically, it was a retiring and well-camouflaged bird of dense woodland, its low-frequency song travelling far and wide within the impenetrable canopy. Even now, blackbirds are happy to live in the remotest of habitats, in stark contrast to their prolific urban image. We may well see them dash at lowlevel from garden to garden and this is a vestige of former habits, an effective method for avoiding hawk predation within thick forest. Its adaptability has certainly helped it to thrive, having unquestionably taken advantage of living alongside us.
For wildlife information and advice, contact the Sussex Wildlife Trust’s WildCall service: 01273 494777 (weekday mornings) or wildcall@sussexwt.org.uk
This month is so miserable that PR people came up with Blue Monday, a day so called because it is deemed to be the grimmest on the calendar, one that could only be made bleaker if radio stations everywhere were compelled to play the works of Morrissey and Joy Division exclusively for that 24 hour period.
It could be argued that this year, every day of this month should be prefixed with the word Blue given the predicament we are all facing. At the time of writing the vast majority of the nation is effectively in lockdown, with even tighter measures expected to be imposed on us all in the imminent future. I have a sneaking suspicion that the majority of 2021 resolutions centred around getting out more and seeing more people than we did last year, neither of which will be realised any time soon. Even the usually ubiquitous postChristmas television ads for foreign holidays are scarcer this year and their ‘we are here when you’re ready’ tone doesn’t provide most of us with anything tangible to look forward to. By now my calendar is usually on its way to being half full but so far, I haven’t even bothered opening this year’s because our engagements are so few and far between that even I am capable of committing them to my wholly unreliable memory.
However, feeling sorry for one’s self isn’t an option this month because the one thing we have learned from the ordeal of 2020 is that you can quickly be consumed by the grim reality which we all face and before you know it you have embarked upon a never-ending helter skelter ride of gloom and doom. Positivity is key to surviving the pre-vaccine period of this year, however long that may be, even if the idea of bright-eyed enthusiasm is enough to make you want to spread that leftover brandy butter all over your gluten-free crumpets.
There is plenty to be thankful for, including the fact that 99.9 per cent of us are not conspiracy theorists and don’t believe the pandemic is an invention of a mythical global government that is dead set on robbing us of all our freedoms.
The existence of such morons serves as a reminder that there is always somebody worse off, not to mention dafter, than you.
I am keeping my spirits up by counting my blessings that my loved ones and I have managed to remain virus-free while hanging onto various silver linings such as the things that were cancelled last year have been, in theory at least, carried over to the next 12 months and have already been paid for.
I’m even looking forward to losing weight in the coming weeks and months - yes you read it right - and have rescued the crosstrainer from the shed.
The future is bright and I want to be able to fit into my best jeans when I experience it.