Testament to Youth

 The Great Tits have entered the wide world of the garden. Their urgent begging now triggers a frantic back and forth to the feeders, where both parents pick and prepare sunflower hearts to satisfy the youngster's buzzing appetites. The first Greenfinch, then Goldfinch and then Robin, juveniles have appeared too - but my curiosity turned to the bramble patch outside my studio window. The Blackcap had announced Spring from the tangled spray of prickles, and gradually had become quieter and less visible. A female had arrived, and the male cocked his tail up towards her, shivering his wings in brief flirtation, but since then, proceedings had been hard to fathom. 

Two days ago, the male sprang out of the bramble and flew off, and seconds later the female emerged, gleaning among the overhanging elder branches briefly, before heading into the oak tree. Perhaps something was happening. Up until now, my only clue that breeding might be happening was a sustained chorus of alarm calls one afternoon as a Magpie lingered nearby. But now I was sure that the pair was still together - and that could mean only one thing.

Yesterday evening, as the low orange light filtered through the hedge, a small bird almost fell onto an exposed branch. In the warm gloom it almost looked like a Wren - but something not quite perceptible made me think that this was something more significant. I approached quietly, expecting the tiny ball of bird to disappear at any moment. But it didn't. In fact, it just froze. Long enough to rush in and get my camera. Long enough for me to take a couple of pics with one lens, then go back inside, get my other lens, fiddle around trying to change them, and go back outside to take a couple more shots. 

tame.