| Nature Notes
by Jenny Dixon featured in
Wharfedale Newspapers Visitors On
the morning of The Great Thaw I stepped out into the garden to the sound of bird
song. The resident robin, for weeks far too preoccupied with survival to sing,
was whistling away lustily and a great tits seesaw call rang out from near
the gate. Many birds will have perished in the recent icy conditions, but these
were survivors and they are resilient! While mourning for the sufferings
of our small birds, we birdwatchers did have the arctic weather to thank for the
chance to see some unusual species as desperate visitors arrived at our feeding
stations. I was delighted to see crowds of tiny yellow, olive green and black
siskins around the nyger seed, the first of the winter, and, through the coldest
week, they were joined by redpolls. These are small finches, streaky brown with
a bright carmine spot on the brow, the males also have a warm pink flush to the
breast feathers. Both sexes have a creamy white line above the eye that gives
them a rather stern expression. My visitors pale into insignificance beside
some of the snow surprises Ive been hearing about. In a garden just a few
hundred yards from mine, a woodcock was seen in broad daylight probing around
the patches of thawing snow. Easily identifiable by its long bill and those amazing
eyes placed almost on top of the head, its essentially a bird of the woodland,
feeding by night and lying camouflaged among the leaf litter by day. Most people
only see one in flight - either jinking off between the trees when disturbed or,
at dusk in summer, flying above the treetops patrolling its territory and giving
that distinctive grunt and whistle call. Meanwhile, for those who managed to get
out as far as the Otley Wetlands Reserve there was a real treat - a visiting bittern.
Usually a lurker in reedbeds, it was driven into the open by the ice, and so clearly
visible. Now it knows where we are, perhaps it will return in more clement weather. Not
all surprises are unalloyed pleasure. A friend who lives in the wilds beyond Oakworth
was snowed up for weeks. Every morning she donned wellingtons and went out to
fill up the bird feeders and examine the tracks left by birds and animals. A badger
came nightly and foraged under the bird feeders - walking past her front doorstep
as he left - exciting news.. Then the thaw came. She decided to dig up one of
the twenty fine swedes in her vegetable garden, for so long buried under a foot
of snow. Twelve of them had been eaten away leaving empty shells. I have one on
my desk now: inside the husk, only a thin layer of flesh remains and this is pocked
and dimpled - the work, we guess, of little rodent teeth. In their burrows under
the snow, voles and woodmice had a grand time, snug and safe from predators -
and dining off the fat of the garden. Now a tawny owl is much in evidence. No
surprise there!
More of Jenny's articles here
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