A couple of years ago we fixed an open-fronted nestbox to our garden fence amongst a clematis. It’s the kind of box meant to be used by robins, wagtails or – this really is fantasy land now – spotted flycatchers.
All our garden birds ignored it, until last summer a blackbird built a nest on the roof rather than inside the box. The nest was constructed carefully from various vegetation, some nylon string I’d left outside, and some plastic ribbons pinched from our next-door neighbour’s garden.
Three gorgeous blue eggs were laid inside, which eventually turned into three pink, wobbly chicks. We watched the parents bringing in food, but mercifully we were on holiday when fledging time came around. So I’m almost certain that all the young blackbirds survived.
So far this year (and it is only April), the blackbirds have not returned to reuse their nest. It’s seen better days, after all.
At last, a pair of robins spotted the box intended for their use. A nest was built, using plenty of dry leaves from the garden, eggs were laid and before we knew it, chicks had hatched. We only realised because the adult robins were so busy to-ing and fro-ing, carrying an assortment of worms, flies, caterpillars and other bugs. They also delivered sunflower hearts, which is not really what growing chicks should be eating. So we did our bit by digging over our veg bed and leaving out a few worms from our compost bin.
A quick peek with a phone into the nest revealed three well-grown chicks:
Friday was the big day, when I spotted the chicks outside the nestbox for the first time. I kept my distance, so as not to disturb the birds. And then I saw a gentle cascade of feathers coming from the tall ash tree that overhangs our garden. And I looked up, and there was a magpie with one of the young robins.
Having seen all the time and effort that the parent robins had expended over the past few weeks, I felt sad. I know that magpies are predators and need to eat, and newly-fledged robins are very vulnerable (being unable to fly properly) and the robins themselves had done a lot of predating (think of all those worms).
Later that day, the male robin was singing again. I saw one of the adults picking at moss, perhaps for a new nest. What would happen next? It seemed possible that some of the chicks had survived, but could they have avoided the attention of the magpies? The robins stopped spending so much time in our garden and moved next-door. Food was being gathered, but it seemed like courtship-feeding could have been the reason.
(I spent the weekend thinking about the tragic robins and wondering how I could write a post about them, without making my readership sad too.)
Yesterday afternoon, my speckled hero appeared. Fluttering at the window of the back door, then clinging to the fine twigs of the Acer tree with bright red leaves. I could hardly believe it! A robin fledgling paused on the garden fence, tail cocked defiantly, before flying off with one of its parents.
With more wet and windy weather coming up, I’m reluctant to speak too soon, but a robin made it! Let’s hope that young bird can perfect its flying skills and dodge the magpies a while longer.
Printmaking in progress
You may remember that my last bout of printmaking went wrong, but I haven’t given up.
I sketched out this design with a pair of garganey(s) two years ago, but for some reason I didn’t pursue it then. But maybe now the time is right! I even got my linocut tools sharpened before I started (thank you, Lawrence Art Supplies). They are now very sharp indeed, as I found when I accidentally stabbed my thumb with one. The tools are returned quickly, with glittery blobs protecting the blades.
Sharp tools are what’s needed here. There’s been lots of fiddly cutting away and head-scratching over reflections, vermiculations and ripples.
But so far, so good. I’ve printed three shades of ink: pale grey, a darker grey and a weird yellowy-buff - see below. Most of the buff will be covered up by later, darker colours (mostly browns) with just small areas visible on the ducks and in the reflections. I think green for the reeds might be next to be printed, but I haven’t really got a hard and fast plan for this.
To avoid the registration problems I had with my owl print, I’m printing by hand this time, using a heavy glass baren to press the paper onto the lino block and transfer the ink. I haven’t done this for a while and it’s certainly reminded me why my little press is so useful! It’s hard work, even on prints that are smaller than A4 size.
Tune in next time to see how I’m getting on.
A postcard from the Fens
Water, water, everywhere. Above, the scene at WWT Welney a couple of weeks ago. We’ve had yet more heavy rain since - bad news for wading birds hoping to start breeding very soon.
Welney is part of the Ouse Washes. And here is the same River Great Ouse further upstream at the National Trust’s Houghton Mill, near St Ives (Huntingdonshire not Cornwall). There was a *lot* of water, brown with topsoil, rushing past the mill on its way to the sea. Will we be in another drought in a few months time? It wouldn’t be a surprise…
My heart was in my mouth reading that! Wow! X