winterfare

The cold has crisped the grass white for
the past few mornings and now the thrushes gather under the apple trees, lunging and pecking at the ripe flesh. Blackbirds steadily increased after Christmas, and today I counted thirty at one time, mostly feeding on apples, but the whole garden is alive with them. Chacking down from the hawthorn come the Fieldfares, a dozen or so, and they soon puff out their chests in ownership of the juiciest fruit. A Redwing sticks to the periphery, rarely venturing among the apples, preferring to glean along the hedgerow, close to cover. Two Song thrushes bound across the garden, pausing under the bird feeders while above them Goldfinches and Tits spill seed on the ground. The feast lasts all day, from bright sunned dawn to isabelline dusk. The chinking Blackbirds call on the night.