Tag Archive | Turdus merula

Snow birds

In the two recent periods of snowy weather (The Beast from the East, over 1, 2 and 3 March) and the Mini Beast from the East (from 18 March onwards – no more snow falling but it is still heavy on the ground), we’ve been putting even more food down for the wild birds. We’ve been rewarded by some great views of birds we rarely see in the garden – and three species that are new to us.

The first new species might not seem that exciting, as they are all around us in the village, nesting in rookeries in the tall beech trees, but we have never had rooks (Corvus frugilegus) actually come down into our garden before.

Rook (Corvus frugilegus). Photo by Rafał Komorowski (Wikimedia Commons).

Rook (Corvus frugilegus). Photo by Axel Mauruszat (Wikimedia Commons).

The second new bird was a very exciting sighting, and he’s been back several times: a male hawfinch (Coccothraustes coccothraustes). This is the biggest finch in the UK, and we’ve never seen one before, anywhere, so to see one in our garden was wonderful. And he’s bloody massive. I tried to get a photo of him next to a chaffinch, the finch it most resembles, but sadly failed to get a decent shot.

Male hawfinch (Coccothraustes coccothraustes). Photo by Mikils (Wikimedia Commons).

Male hawfinch (Coccothraustes coccothraustes).

Top to bottom: Starling, blackbird, hawfinch.

The third new bird is a male reed bunting (Emberiza schoeniclus). This little bird looks superficially like a male house sparrow, but has a distinctive black head, bright white collar and a black streak like a tie down its chest. Its body plumage is a little streaky in appearance, reminiscent of a siskin’s or a dunnock’s.

Male reed bunting (Emberiza schoeniclus). Photo by Andreas Trepte (Wikimedia Commons).

We’ve also had quite a few fieldfare (Turdus pilaris) and redwing (Turdus iliacus) visit during the snowy periods. We only see these winter visitors occasionally.

Turdus overload: top to bottom Fieldfare, Song thrush, Redwing, Blackbird.

Bird species seen in our garden during the snowy spells of March 2018:

Blackbird (Turdus merula)

Song thrush (Turdus philomelos)

Fieldfare (Turdus pilaris)

Redwing (Turdus iliacus)

Robin (Erithacus rubecula)

Long-tailed tit (Aegithalos caudatus)

Blue tit (Cyanistes caeruleus)

Great tit (Parus major)

Chaffinch (Fringilla coelebs)

Goldfinch (Carduelis carduelis)

Greenfinch (Chloris chloris)

Hawfinch (Coccothraustes coccothraustes)

Siskin (Spinus spinus)

Reed bunting (Emberiza schoeniclus)

Dunnock (Hedge sparrow) (Prunella modularis)

House sparrow (Passer domesticus)

Starling (Sturnus vulgaris)

Pied wagtail (Motacilla alba yarrellii)

Wood pigeon (Columba palumbus)

Collared dove (Streptopelia decaocto)

Jackdaw (Coloeus monedula)

Rook (Corvus frugilegus)

RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch 2018

Jan29

Yesterday we took part in the RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch, an annual survey of wild birds seen in the gardens and public spaces of the UK, which gives a snapshot of the health of our native bird population. Last year’s survey recorded some 8 million birds, with around half a million people taking part.

During my stint I had the most amazing encounter. The garden was busy with all sorts of birds, including blackbirds (Turdus merula) and goldfinches (Carduelis carduelis) and long-tailed tits (Aegithalos caudatus), feeding on the sunflower seeds and fat balls and mealworms we had put out around the garden. Suddenly most of the birds flew off, and a sparrowhawk (Accipiter nisus) pitched up right below where I was watching from an upstairs window, perched on the fence panel. We occasionally see a sparrowhawk flying overhead, but rarely have such a good close-up view.

Sparrowhawk (Accipter nisus). Photo by Mark Robinson.

It was looking into our large Mahonia japonica bush by the fence, in which several small birds were sheltering. The mahonia is a dense and prickly bush, so as long as the birds stayed in there, there was no chance of the sparrowhawk getting at them. It spent a few minutes peering in to the bush, then flew sharply round to the other side, pitching up on the fence panel again, and then completed the circle by flying back to its original spot. After a little while it scythed off to land on our shed roof at the bottom of the garden, partially hidden by a large Garrya elliptica ‘James Roof’ bush. At this point several small birds flew sharpish out of the mahonia in the opposite direction. I was watching the sparrowhawk so only saw them out of the corner of my eye, so didn’t identify them positively, but I think they were likely long-tailed tits, which seem to use the mahonia as a shelter from which to nip out to grab mealworms.

Long-tailed tit (Aegithalos caudatus). Photo by David Friel.

Just the other week there was a lovely programme on the box, Hugh’s Wild West, in which Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall learned about the life of long-tailed tits, how they huddle in a group on a branch to roost at night, and lay their eggs in a downy nest made of moss and feathers and cobwebs. They are such delightful little birds, and it was so interesting to learn more about them. The episode is available on the BBC iPlayer for a few weeks here.

Another pied male blackbird

Jan8

In January 2016 I did a short blog post on a pied male blackbird (Turdus merula) we’d been seeing around a lot. We’ve seen a pied blackbird intermittently since then, and yesterday it put in appearance after quite a period of absence. I snapped some photos on my crappy camera, so the quality isn’t the best, but it gives an idea of its markings. Click on all photos to enlarge.

We had thought it was the same bird, but from comparing the photos of the two, it seems that they are different birds. Our newcomer seems to have a ‘Z’ of white on the top of his tail by his body, whereas the 2016 one didn’t. I wonder if the newer one is perhaps the son of our other one.

Our 2016 visitor.

Normal male blackbird. Photo by Sannse.

Round and round the apple tree … redux

Nov29

Last night was very cold, and we woke to a heavy frost, the fiercest yet this winter. In the secret garden next door we were treated to the lovely sight of our first fieldfare (Turdus pilaris) of the winter, a new arrival from Scandinavia or points further east. He was flying between the tall beeches that surround the garden and the central, old apple tree, with its spread of windfall apples on the ground beneath, chasing off any blackbirds (Turdus merula) that got too close to his stash.

Fieldfare (Turdus pilaris). Photo by Bengt Nyman.

Now this might be a bit of a stretch, and I have no idea of the longevity of fieldfare, but I wonder if this is the same bird that stayed in the secret garden for well over a month during the winter two years ago. Fieldfare normally travel in flocks, so seeing a singleton is unusual enough. The fact that this one is displaying the same territorial behaviour towards the secret garden makes me wonder ….

The secret garden, surrounded by tall beech trees and with its old apple tree in the centre. The fieldfare was in one the beeches when I took this, not that you’ll be able to spot it.

Our visitor two years ago finally left us when our neighbours on the other side of the secret garden started having lots of treework done, involving noisy chainsaws. The day that started, he left. We didn’t see him last year. It’s lovely to have him (or one like him) back.

And as a double bonus, this morning I heard the first song thrush (Turdus philomelos) singing. They sing through the spring and early summer, and then stop, starting up again in winter. It’s wonderful to hear.

Update: 24 January 2017: We have had several days of very hard frosts and sub-zero temperatures at night. Two days ago our lone fieldfare was joined by four others, and the blackbirds were down feeding on the apples too. It seems the greater number meant that the original fieldfare gave up on chasing everyone else off. Yesterday we counted ten fieldfare. We have been supplementing the apples with oatmeal, suet, sultanas, sunflower seeds, chopped up dates and figs: I think the birds eat better than we do!

Update 27 January 2017: The apples are now gone, and so too are the fieldfare: we started putting out extra apples just too late to keep them around (they didn’t eat any of the other offerings). Oh well. It was lovely having our loner and latterly his friends for as long as we did.

Blackbirds in pop music

Oct4

Blackbirds (Turdus merula) are one of my favourite birds. So any time they are celebrated, I’m happy. Here’s a brief look at three very different groups of musicians from the UK who have been inspired by one of our loveliest native songbirds.

A male blackbird, Turdus merula. Photo by Sannse.

In early May this year Radiohead released ‘Burn the Witch‘, the much-anticipated first single off their first album in five years, A Moon Shaped Pool. The song was teased by the band with a short, enigmatic snippet of footage, of a stop-motion bird singing to the sound of a blackbird’s song.

A post shared by Radiohead (@radiohead) on May 2, 2016 at 10:01pm PDT

When ‘Burn the Witch’ was released, we could hear that the blackbird’s song was the introduction and the coda to the song, and that the lyrics ‘Sing a song on the jukebox that goes / Burn the witch’ and ‘Sing the song of sixpence that goes / Burn the witch’ referenced the traditional British children’s rhyme, ‘Sing a Song of Sixpence‘, a rhyme that refers to four and twenty blackbirds being baked in a pie, and later to a blackbird pecking off a maid’s nose. Jolly stuff, these traditional rhymes, but aptly fitting with the grim subject matter of Radiohead’s song.

Just the other day I discovered that what I had long-thought to be an image of a range of evening sunlit limestone peaks reflected in still waters of the Thai coast on the cover of Kate Bush‘s double album Aerial is in fact a waveform of a blackbird’s song. (Observation was never my strong point).

The cover of Aerial by Kate bush, featuring the waveform of a blackbird’s song.

And birdsong, predominantly blackbird song, is featured throughout the album. ‘Prelude’, the first track of A Sky of Honey, the second disc of the album, starts with a male blackbird singing, followed by a wood pigeon‘s call which Bush then mimics; the track ‘Sunset’ refers to blackbirds singing at dusk, and features the song of a blackbird at the very end of the track and merging into the next track, ‘Aerial Tal’, where Bush mimics the call of one in the style of an Indian taal; and the final track, ‘Aerial’ features more blackbird song (and a blackbird alarm call) while Bush laughs.

And of course the most famous use of a blackbird’s song in modern music is in ‘Blackbird‘ by the Beatles: in the latter part of the song a male blackbird can be heard singing.

Here they are, without accompaniment. In all cases, this is the spring song of the blackbird. They do sing later on in the year, but the spring song is the best.

Just magical.

A pied male blackbird

Jan17

Today we saw a very unusual bird – a male blackbird (Turdus merula) with lots of white on his body, giving him a beautiful pied appearance.

The photos aren’t very good because I had my not-very-sophisticated camera on zoom and was photographing through a window.

This is what a male blackbird should look like:

Male blackbird. Photo by Sannse.

I’m hoping our pied visitor will come back and that we can get some better photos of him.

January 2018 UPDATE: We have another pied male blackbird.

Round and round the apple tree

Dec29

By coincidence, my last couple of posts have been about Scandinavia, snow and ice, and ovicaprids. I’m not going to manage to shake free of all of those in this post either …

Fieldfare (Turdus pilaris). Photo by Arnstein Rønning.

We woke this morning to a terrific hard frost. The countryside is white; the trees are white; it is gorgeous. It’s not quite so gorgeous inside our bedroom, where there was ice on the inside of the windows—one of the joys of living in a 300 year old cottage with all its draughts and dampness and ill-fitting doors and windows.

We call one of the gardens next to ours ‘the secret garden’. Not so much because it is hidden, but because no-one uses it. The cottage to which it belongs is rented, and none of the tenants in the last few years has shown any interest in it. Contract gardeners come and cut the grass about four times a year, and that’s it. We can see into the garden from our bedroom dormer window. There is an alder tree which has grown from a small sapling when we arrived in 1992 to a large, two-trunked tree; there is an old ruined cottage or barn or outbuilding, the stone walls of which survive to about a metre or so high and are gradually being covered by brambles; and there is a venerable old apple tree. The apple tree always fruits prodigiously, and because no-one uses the garden, the apples stay where they fall. They provide welcome food for wildlife in the winter months.

This morning the apples were providing a frosty feast for about nine or ten blackbirds (Turdus merula), a grey squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis), and a single fieldfare (Turdus pilaris). Fieldfare are a palaearctic species, living in more northerly latitudes in the summer and heading south in the winter—our fieldfare come from Scandinavia. Normally they travel in flocks, so it is always surprising to see a lone one. This one was vigorously defending its food, spending more time chasing all the blackbirds away than it was eating. Watching them, I could almost hear the Benny Hill Show theme tune in my head as the fieldfare scooted round and round the apple tree in hot pursuit of a blackbird.

Play nicely, children. Photo by Dave Jackson.

Play nicely, children. (This is a small fieldfare as an adult fieldfare is quite a bit larger than an adult blackbird). Photo by Dave Jackson.

I would love to have seen this many!

Update 4 January 2015: A week on and the fieldfare is still with us. He sits in one of the higher beech trees that surrounds the secret garden, and swoops down to chase off larger interlopers who are getting too close to his precious stash of slowly-rotting apples. He tolerates the smaller birds such as chaffinches (Fringilla coelebs) and dunnocks (Prunella modularis) and blackcaps (Sylvia atricapilla), but is aggressive in his pursuit of the blackbirds. Even larger birds like jackdaws (Corvus monedula) get the ‘get orf moi laaaand’ treatment from him (or should that be written in a Scandinavian rather than a West Country accent?)

Update 29 November 2016: The fieldfare stayed for about a month, leaving the day our neighbours on the other side of the secret garden started having some very noisy chainsaw work done on their trees. We didn’t see him in winter 2015, but this morning we woke to a hard frost and a lone fieldfare guarding the apple tree in the secret garden. Is it the same bird? I’d like to think so ….

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