Lullaby of Birdland

The source of some of my garden's fertility

Like the Whooper Swan I migrate northwards in Spring, but whereas I only travel 200 miles to mid-Wales the Whooper Swan carries on to Lapland or Iceland. Bewick's Swans migrate even further, not happy until they have reached the high Arctic as they prefer their summer on the chilly side. Only the stockier and quieter Mute Swan, the most common in Britain and the only breed to have been domesticated, stays put all year round.

Birdlife is on the increase on my land although I have yet to see any swan here other than myself. The fluid songs of blackbirds fill the evening air and robins can often be seen close by, especially if I've been digging and potentially unearthing a worm. The short bursts of a woodpecker in one of the large oaks high up the bank betrays its presence; I've never managed to spot it so far. From my caravan I can look out on a small copse of blackthorn and sometimes spy on a couple of bullfinches meticulously stripping the buds off the branches. Other small birds flit here and there amongst the trees, rarely pausing for long and making identification difficult for a non-birdspotter like me.

Away it goes. This is all fresh stuff so I leave it to rot down till next year.

Inside that blackthorn copse is my compost toilet, artfully concealed, yet with a view out south to Mallwyd Hill. Back in 2013 when Matt and Mary helped me build it, I leaned three spare two-by-four-inch lengths of timber semi-upright inside to keep them dry, and there they still rest. Yet despite their apparent lack of purpose, they have in fact acquired a two-fold function. My digital thermometer perches on top of the taller one, kept both dry and in the shade. And the gap formed by the pieces of timber have proved tempting to birds looking for a good place to nest. It's dry and raised off the ground, with the only trouble caused by some human coming close every so often to fiddle with the thermometer, or to defecate.

Last year it was a wren's nest. As I sat there on the compost toilet just a couple of yards from the nest, a wren would nervously inspect me from every angle, from various branches around, or the ground. At the end of the season I extracted the nest and marvelled at the tight weave of twigs and other materials to create the cosy home for its young. This year, a treecreeper has taken up residence. Its nest is a larger and messier affair with larger twigs, and the adult bird does exactly the same as the wren last year when I go to the loo, but with a bit more creeping up tree trunks. My bird identification book says treecreepers' nests are “sometimes in a crack in a shed adjacent to woodland” which is just about right.

Most of these peas have germinated. They'll be planted outside when they're taller.

With the buzzards and red kites circling above and other smaller birds settling in or passing through over the next few months, it is a good place to be to deepen my appreciation of these flighted creatures. If you happen to stop by and find me stock-still, leaning on my spade and staring intently at a tree, you'll know why.

Oh and do please support the Edible Mach project which is needing funding to continue:
Edible Mach Maethlon is a community group based in Machynlleth, Mid Wales. For the last two years we have been turning unused land all around our town into beautiful Edible Gardens. With the help of over 70 volunteers, we have grown food crops in places such as the library, park, train station and fire station. This food is available for anyone to pick and eat.
https://chuffed.org/project/edible-mach-maethlon