Poor Mr Titmouse. What a shock for him when he came for his evening meal last night.
He looked down, hoping he’s imagined it, then looked up again.
There it was. Sitting right in the bird feeder.
The feeders are widely spaced, between the poles that support the porch roof, and on each side there hangs a wind chime.
We’ve often seen grey squirrels climbing up the posts, reaching out to the chimes, but they always slide back down, frustrated. Why they bother, I don’t know. There is plenty of seed at ground level.
How Little Red succeeded, we don’t know, but there he was!
Stuffing his tiny face and upsetting the birds.
Tom Titmouse was appalled, but kept returning for another look and to grab a quick seed.
We were a little anxious about Red’s dismount and I watched for some time, but he seemed determined to empty the feeder so I left him to it. When I came back he was gone and I looked around in case he had come to grief, but perhaps he has wings.
Then this morning, I found out the cause of the loud crash I’d heard late last night.
In a house with 11 cats, night noises are so commonplace, you tend to ignore them unless there are ensuing screams or wails.
Grant was up first and when I heard his outraged comment, I went to see: the total absence of Red’s feeder of choice. Gone. Descended to the ground.
Grant went out to retrieve it and I heard further ructions !
The suet holders had been ripped open and their contents, two full blocks, robbed!
Bandits. The raccoons are back! Not that we have seen one lately, but this is their work!
Now we will have to bring the feeders in at night. And hope the cats don’t pee on them.
It’s a never-ending saga.
As we had breakfast, we were visited by a few more birds. I decided they deserved proper identification and fetched the bird books.
This little chap would appear to be a Song Sparrow.
While this “Little Brown Job” matches the picture of a Chipping Sparrow.
We also saw a finch, though I am unable to confirm whether he is the Purple or the House variety, as he declined to be photographed, for now, anyway.
Now I must spend a few minutes communing with the garden.
Though where that will lead, heaven knows…