One of the unforeseen consequences of coronavirus lockdown, of being confined close to home and going on the same exercise walk almost every day over almost four months, is that I got to know the local migrant songbird population really well.
I first saw this whitethroat on early spring, very soon after it had first arrived, and after finding it and a consort in the same place over several days, was soon able to pinpoint the nest, under a bramble-covered drystone wall.
As spring progressed, they had nestlings to feed, and then I was able to watch the parent birds bringing back an endless supply of caterpillars, mostly caught in the oilseed rape field next to their nest, or in trees nearly.
It was the melodious song of blackcaps - 'the poor man's nightingale' - that first told be they had arrived. Initially they were hard to spot, skulking amongst the spring foliage of trees. But, hearing them from the same places day after day, I soon discovered their favourite song posts and, after a short wait, managed to get much better views.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.