Getting to know your garden birds

OUTSIDE my window, the sky is suddenly blue, the sun catches the drops on the clothes-line carousel, gleams like silver on the ivy on the south side of the beeches and sets – as it were – the remaining beech leaves, low on the trees and scattered over the yard, on fire.

Rain drops on the briar bushes twinkle and shine like stars. Everything gleams; the lochs of water on the paving, the little springs bubbling up from the garden stream. The wet gravel shines and the white walls of the annex, reflecting the sunlight, are almost blinding. What a transformation! What a crazy, mixed up climate we have!

All night, it was lashing rain, with the wind churning and turning in the trees. At breakfast time, the outside world was grey and dismal, the only sign of life or colour being the blue tits busy at the peanut feeder. But now, at noon, the day transforms – as my parents used to say, it “opens up”. What an apt description that was!

This year, as usual, the annual Garden Bird Survey began on the November 30. I’m a week late starting and, for the next two weeks, I’ll be observing the birds in west Africa, not in west Cork. However, when at home, I’ll contribute my observations as always: it doesn’t matter if there are gaps.

The survey is a BirdWatch Ireland initiative, and anyone can participate. Survey forms can be downloaded from the web site www.birdwatchireland.ie. or the data can be entered electronically. However, given that not everybody has a computer to hand, I imagine hard copies can be obtained from BirdWatch Ireland, Business Campus, Kilcoole, Co Wicklow.

Between December and February each year, members of the public are asked to keep a record of the highest number of each bird species visiting their garden every week. Information on the size of the garden, the kinds of food, if any, being offered to the birds, is also useful. As the website says: “Taking part is fun, easy and an ideal way to get to know your garden birds better; it also makes an ideal school project.”

Some moderately scarce birds have turned up at our Household-scraps Diner and our peanut feeders over the years, and such sightings always deliver a thrill.

Even the three common-or-garden species of tits are enjoyable to watch – the blue, coal and great tits. I see, in an old book, that they’re called “titmice”; perhaps they still are in some blushful birding circles. It’s always seemed a silly name to me, coined by folk who can’t say “tits” without feeling crude, rude or sinful. We know that birds are distinctly not mice, no more than bats are “flying mice”, although the Germans call them “fledermaus”. However, that name is descriptive – mice with wings.

Last winter, daily regulars at our two six-inch-long peanut feeders were as follows: Great tits, 6; Coal tits, 5; Blue tits, 2 (reduced greatly from other years); Goldfinches, 10 (increased greatly from other years); Greenfinches, 6; Chaffinches, 4; Blackbirds, 2 (cock and hen); Robin, 1; Dunnock, 1, Sparrows, 3.

We also had daily visits from Siskins, 2, and Long-tailed tits, 5 (sometimes there were as many as 10; they never came before). Meanwhile, the table attracted three magpies and at least eight jackdaws each day.

Located within three yards of the dining room/kitchen window, the come-and-go of customers to the feeders can be pleasurably observed as one eats oneself, a marvellous distraction, possibly therapeutic.

However, when relative rarities turn up, such as goldcrests or bramblings, one must not become too excited, as this can have the opposite digestive effect. Also, one must not allow oneself to become incensed by a raiding party of jackdaws attempting to carry off the entire peanut feeder; they have succeeded in doing so once.

Also seen in the garden in winter were a grey wagtail (which, of course, has yellow plumage, and is a gorgeous bird), wood pigeons, a blue wagtail (in the yard), a sparrowhawk (intent on dining on the diners), wrens, song and mistle thrushes and a pheasant.

To readers who live in cities, I would point out that urban gardens are often more species-rich than semi-rural plots such as ours.

Garden bird spotting is an entertaining and educational diversion – and a cheap one, welcome in these straightened times.