I’m going out on a limb here, but I’ve always thought January to be the first month of spring. Meteorologists, up and down the land, will be spinning on their weather veins, at the thought of such a heresy.
As soon as the days start to lengthen, the bird's hormones start to kick in. These hormones say: start getting ready for spring – “don’t be left out” – “don’t be the last one your block to secure that prime territory and that highly desirable mate.” Or at least they would could if they could talk…which they can’t...they're only hormones after all.
Blue and Great Tits started to check out the nest boxes during the month. The males look for suitable nest sites. They have strict criteria as to what constitutes that nice, new house – the ideal place to bring up the children. The hole most be the right size - not too big or too small, it must be sheltered from the wind and rain, but at the same time from direct sun. Furthermore it must be dry, free from parasites and out of reach of predators.
Once they’ve found a couple of places that match up, they show their mate who then makes the final choice. The male Blue Tit performs a gliding, butterfly-like display to show off his swish new apartment. This for me is one of the first signs of spring. I first noted it on 3rd Jan.
Bird song really gets going in January. Male birds sing for two reasons. They’re saying “this is my territory – keep off!” They’re also telling the local females - I’m quite a guy - come and check me out! Some people believe they sing for a third reason - because they enjoy it. Well this notion would receive short shrift amongst those of a scientific bent, for whom animal behaviour can only ever be pragmatic. I side with the romantics!
Of all the garden birds my favourite songster has to be the Blackbird. On the morning of 25th I heard those familiar fluty notes from outside my bedroom window. The first Blackbird song of the year is always a garden-bird red letter day, and another sign of spring.
Unlike some birds, such as the wren, with its frantic burst of noise, the Blackbird’s delivery is relaxed and unhurried – making it the Frank Sinatra of the bird world...well without the dubious underworld connections of course.
Throughout February I was woken up by a Mistle Thrush, singing right outside my bedroom window. It has been acting as my very own birdy alarm clock. The only problem with this is that you can't adjust it - it's set to "loud" and "crack of dawn." I oughtn't to be churlish though, "crack of dawn" might be a bit too early, but it's still a great way to wake up!
My thrush-clock is very dependable. It even sang through the awful weather during the weekend of the 23rd and 24th, when (being prone to exaggeration) I thought to myself "this is the worst weather in the whole history of weather." This habit of singing through all weathers, including strong wind, from the top of a tall tree gave the Mistle Thrush its old country name of "Stormcock."
It is one of the earliest nesters and my local pair have already finished building. Unlike other thrushes, which hide their nest in thick foliage, the Mistle Thrush site theirs in relatively exposed situations, high up in a tree. To make up for this vulnerability to predators they are very belligerent when defending the nest. A Magpie that goes too close is likely to provoke a two-pronged attack from the male and female, accompanied by harsh rattling calls. Not content with attacking traditional nest robbers such as cats and magpies, they sometimes even attack people who stray into the "danger zone." Hence the sign you often see on gates - "beware of the Mistle Thrush"...although I might have made this up.
The situation with that other much loved member of the same family - the Song Thrush - is not so rosy. I've seen very little of Song Thrushes this year. This unfortunately reflects the national pattern - Song Thrushes have undergone a fairly dramatic decline in numbers over the last couple of decades. No one is totally sure as to the cause of this, however molluscicides (slug pellets to you and me) are often implicated. This species preys quite heavily on snails - a lot of gardeners now use poisons to kill these pests and so end up poisoning Song Thrushes.
The closely related Blackbird, on the other hand, seems to be doing well. Numbers have been high recently - our native birds are joined by continental birds which come to Britain for the winter. They could have gone to the South of France or the Algarve but no, they chose to come here. It can't be for the weather - maybe they've heard that the TV is better!
1997 Sightings
1998 Sightings
1999 Sightings
2000 Sightings
2001 Sightings
"Birds in a Cheshire Garden"
