Brookdale and garden

A week of too few walks and too many pheasants

Saturday 4th April, 2015.

It wasn’t the best weekend weather that we have “enjoyed” recently.  The most accurate description is the forecasters' favourite - changeable.  On Saturday it alternated between sunny and showery with an occasional short spell of sun and rain at the same time - just for variety.  In South Africa these sunny showers were called “a monkey’s wedding”.  I wondered whether the expression had come from India because there was a large Indian community in Natal, where we lived.  Well, I was wrong.  According to Bert Vaux, a Harvard linguist, it is a direct translation of the Zulu “umshado wezinkawu.”  He also discovered that other countries have similar expressions to describe these sunshowers, often involving various animals getting married . . . such as foxes (the most frequent), rats, jackals and even tigers.

After lunch on Saturday I wasted some time trying to trap yet another pheasant.  It walked around the cage pecking at the pieces of food which were spilt during the struggle to capture Thursday’s visitor.  I watched for ages but every time it looked as though it might enter the cage it changed its mind and wandered off.  Eventually I got tired of watching and went outside to do some weeding - until the next shower of rain sent me back indoors.

The male pheasants really are very spectacular birds.  I used to get excited when I saw one in the garden.  But, since they have been released further up the glen every autumn for shooting, they have become a pest.  Their droppings make a mess on paths and patios, and they also eat plants and scratch up bulbs and seedlings.  This is the one that got away.

Sunday’s weather was a repetition of Saturday’s.  It was raining when we left for the shops so we decided against visiting the swans.  When we returned from buying the newspaper, I saw that the pheasant was back.  He had finished off the food in the cage and was sunning himself up by the stream.  I baited the trap again but he just sneered at me.  So I chased him out of the garden.  Much later, Tim called me and said that the pheasant was right inside the cage.  This time I managed to trap him.  I sincerely hope there isn’t another pheasant lurking in the garden tomorrow.

Monday started off well but got wetter and windier after lunch.  I saw the goldfinch again, briefly, but there haven’t been many of the less usual birds visiting the feeder lately.  Last year I saw a redpoll, and the siskins visited far more often.  During the morning I did a bit of work at the top of the garden.  I started by clearing the path above the old hollies where the dogs used to race up and down screaming abuse at the riding school dogs - who were mirroring their actions on the other side of the fence.  I picked up dead twigs and pulled out a forest of little sycamore seedlings.  There were too many for me to count.  Tim is good at counting things in the garden.  He has a more disciplined mind.  My mind flits from one topic to another and I always lose concentration.

Then I started the annual spring assault on the early-seeding weeds like hairy bittercress, dandelions, and ivy-leaved speedwell.  The weeds always win in the end but I keep on trying.

The weather got gloomier as the day progressed.  And my mood was even gloomier when I went to start cooking supper and saw yet another ****** male pheasant outside the kitchen window.  Tim said ”Let’s leave him until tomorrow” so I just made a few half-hearted attempts to chase him out of the garden when the rain eased off slightly.

Tuesday started with gale force winds, blustery wintry showers and news of cancelled ferries.  At home it was another day another pheasant - a female this time probably the femme fatale that has been luring all the males into our vicinity.  I chased her out of the garden and when her latest suitor arrived I managed to trap him.  

We drove him down to the river during a shower of hail.  It was a bitterly cold morning made colder by the icy wind.  It was almost half way through the week and I only had one photo for the blog.  I thought of looking for some flowers to photograph but they were being battered by the wind apart from the Veltheimia in the conservatory which is almost fully open now.

I wasn’t in the best of moods . . . but I cheered up instantly when I noticed a grey wagtail under the feeder.  I haven’t seen one in the garden for years and have never had the opportunity to photograph one before.  It was bound to happen - just to prove me wrong after writing about the lack of unusual birds.

The grey wagtail was a female.  She spent some time pecking around under the feeder . . .

and then sat on the wall for a while with her feathers puffed up - obviously feeling cold.

She kept glancing up at the birds on the feeder above her head.

Wednesday, April 1.  No pheasants today - so far.  I keep expecting a whole horde to march into the garden chanting “April Fool”.  It is too cold for comfortable gardening.  The main problem is wind chill again.  But it was a good morning for bird watching through the kitchen window.  First the goldfinch returned.

Then two grey wagtails landed on the bank by the summerhouse.  They were too far away for good photos so I grabbed the binoculars.  At first I thought they looked like two females but then one turned towards the house and I could see the black patch below the chin of the male.  Yesterday’s female had returned with her partner.  I gave the binoculars to Tim and went to get the camera in case they came closer to the house.  I got two reasonable photos - unfortunately they were both of the female.  I hope they are nesting nearby and continue to visit the garden.

PS  I knew I had counted my chickens (or rather my absence of pheasants) too soon.  Another male arrived in the early evening and was transported out of the glen.

Thursday was cold again but the sun was shining and the wind had eased.  I decided to take close-up magnified photos of some of the early flowering shrubs in the garden while they were still decorated with dew.  There seem to be fashions in shrubs.  The ones that I photographed are all easy to grow old favourites which are bound to be despised by plant collectors and those who value rarity - and equally despised by strictly indigenous gardeners.  They are useful though because they flower at a time when there is very little pollen and nectar to feed the early insects.

Earliest of all is the flowering currant (north american).  It is a rather straggly bush but I saw some bumblebees visiting the flowers when they emerged from hibernation.

Berberis darwinii (south american) is a favourite with the bees. The bushes are covered with buds and the first flowers are starting to open. In a few months the young blackbirds will strip the purple berries from the bushes - and distribute the seed all over the garden.

Forsythia (asian) is found in nearly all the old gardens.  It isn’t much use for wildlife but the bright flowers on the bare branches cheer up the garden on grey, damp days.

We used to have an enormous skimmia reevesiana (asian) growing in the front garden. It was attacked by honey fungus, started to die back and had to be dug out. I saved a few bits and planted some up in the back garden. This plant wasn't very happy - until our neighbours cut down a nearby leylandii. Since then it has blossomed with enthusiasm. It is disappointing that the birds show no interest in the shiny red berries. But there is a silver lining - because the berries survive on the plant for months and are very decorative.

In the evening we heard a sudden noise from the back of the house. Tim said that it sounded as though someone had flown into a window so I went to check. I found a male chaffinch sitting on the ground. It didn’t appear to be badly injured but was obviously stunned so I picked it up and took it inside to keep it warm until it was feeling stronger. I held it in my hand until it started to wriggle and then took it back outside. It flew up into the kowhai tree - but just sat there looking cold.

I wondered whether I should take it inside again but, when I touched it, it fluttered up onto a higher branch. I kept going back to look and was thankful when it finally recovered from its headache and got up enough energy to fly away. It is hard to believe that those photos are of the same bird because the colours are so different. The one on the left was taken under a bright strip light in the kitchen and the one on the right was taken after I released it - about quarter past six when the light outside was fading fast. Friday dawned grey, damp and misty and it stayed much the same all day. I loaded the dishwasher later than usual and while I was in the kitchen I saw a pair of siskins and two goldfinches on the feeder as well as all the daily visitors. There was also a goldcrest searching for food up in the hawthorns.

Our only "walks" this week have been short trips to Ramsey. Tim has had a sore throat and the weather hasn’t been suitable. But things promise to improve soon. Tim is feeling better and the forecasts for the rest of the weekend are for a high pressure system bringing drier, warmer weather. Saturday again and blue skies were back this morning!

No need to join Robert Browning in yearning to be in England now that April’s here. We have it all here on the Island . . . the promise of new leaves and the song of the chaffinches. In another of Browning’s spring poems he writes of “the snail on the thorn”. I haven’t seen many snails yet but this morning there was something even better a robin on the thorn.

Now we have returned from a good walk up to the Brookdale top gate and all’s right with our world.

Stop Press: While Tim was checking this post for errors, I saw the first butterfly of the year! A peacock up near the summerhouse feeding on a dandelion flower.