Something wonderful is happening in my garden. Last afternoon, while admiring and experimenting with various sprinklers attached to a lately delivered solar pump for my sink-sized pond, I heard an unusual birdsong, rich and melodious. The bird, mid-brown, was silhouetted on top of my summer house. I was unable to see detail. It flitted in the cherry tree and left. Smaller than a blackbird, bigger than a sparrow. But I had never seen a sparrow in my garden. It returned, was it the same bird? And could it be a dunnock? Neither had I seen a dunnock in the garden.
Today, I am overjoyed to see two sparrows taking moss from the garden (I have loads) and up to the fir tree to the right of my door. They must be building a nest; goody.
Now a young, and this is the sweet voice I heard yesterday, thrush, perches right outside the conservatory on the cheap metal archway I put up last summer which bears a red clematis on the right and raspberries on the left. Wonderful, neither have I ever seen a thrush in my garden.
Low and behold, a single and magnificent crimson-breasted bull finch on top of the trellis, swoops down and drinks from the bird bath.
Agapanthus, a mother’s day gift years ago, has grown eleven blue blooms from none, and hosts two many spotted ladybirds which have been there for three days so far and I’ve seen a fat honey bee and a svelte honey bee with pollen-laden legs.
Creatures I have not yet seen this year are; red and turquoise damsel flies, the huge black and yellow striped dragon fly, the frogs; and I know the family of hedgehogs wandered next door and drowned last year.
The pair of dunnocks are bold and busy, under the table, top of the trellis pecking and picking, on the fence, eyeing the olive tree (watch out, my neighbour snatches nests before the eggs hatch, she’s a little short of grey cells).
Earlier, I watched the blackbird on the lawn as he listened for worms, stabbed and got one. Last year a fledgling fell close to the pond, mum and dad never left it for a second, making squawking, encouraging, here-we-are-sounds for two days. I kept the cat indoors. Two blackbirds have always nested in the fir tree. He sat on the roof of my summer house last evening and sang beautifully. His babies, still in their nest, sang back baby songs.
The dunnock goes where no bird dared to go – to the hanging fairy-on-a-leaf, filled with porridge oats. Their character is quite unique, so too the blackbird, thrush and bullfinch.