Distractions - Elizabeth Kay
Well, this is one for a start. Writing a blog post instead
of knuckling down to chapter twenty-three. What excuses do you find for not getting on with that book you’re writing? There
are all the usual ones, of course. Cleaning, cooking, gardening, exercising –
and ironing, if you’re really desperate. The more specialised ones, like
re-decorating and car maintenance and keeping up with your social life. The
once a year ones, like… no, we won’t go there in case once a year translates in
your house as squalor.
And then
there’s wildlife.
For me,
this is the killer. The frogs in the pond,
the bird table, the nest boxes, the
walks on the common. Two years ago we had great tits nesting a few yards from
the house. Breakfast could be taken in the conservatory, watching the action.
First of all there was the survey. This was extremely thorough, and involved a
lot of hanging upside down and viewing the floor from below, as well as
checking every single joint as well as the integrity of the roof. Once a
purchase was made, the nest building commenced. Mostly this was
straightforward, except when a twig was too wide to go through the hole and
needed several attempts at different angles to achieve the desired effect. Once
Mrs Great Tit laid her eggs and was sitting on them, Mr Great Tit became very
attentive. He’d land on the little perch, she’d pop her head through the hole
and he’d delicately feed her a caterpillar. I knew that the eggs had hatched
when I heard very faint and high-pitched cheeping. The fact that Bob, my
husband, couldn’t hear it annoyed me intensely. I thought he just wasn’t trying
until he did a hearing test online which revealed that I had the hearing age of
an eighteen-year-old and he… didn’t.
We were
lucky enough to be sitting on the patio when one of the babies fledged. Leaving
the nestbox in a downward trajectory, the chick skidded across the top of the
water butt and landed in a flower pot. It sat there for an hour before it
ventured elsewhere. One of the others made it to the top of the fence, and sat
there boasting about its achievement and demanding food for some time.
Bob had
been so entranced by the whole episode that I bought him a camera box for
Christmas. Last year there were a little interest, but not much, so I changed
the angle of the box and this year it was a different matter altogether. Three
pairs of blue tits started squabbling over it, and even a starling considered
it although it quickly realised that only its head would fit through the hole. We
thought the camera was monochrome until we actually saw a tit inside, and the
most beautiful bright blue plumage came into sharp focus. The microphone worked
a treat, as well, and often it was hearing something that would draw my
attention to the fact that one of them was doing yet another inspection. Then
there was a period of quiet, when we thought they’d all gone elsewhere. At the
end of April activity resumed, and one of them started building. First of all
the corners were draught-proofed with moss.
Only the female builds the nest, and things moved on very quickly. She’d put the moss in position, then spread her wings and wriggle so that it pressed neatly down all round. This was followed by an intricate construction of twigs, laid across the corners to form a frame. And then – disaster.
I heard a
tremendous squawking, and when I turned to look two blue tits were in the box, going hammer and tongs at one
another. Eventually one flew off, but after that the intruder started to remove
the nesting material and vandalise everything. It was heartbreaking, and
reminiscent of the way we’d felt at a previous house. On that occasion we’d had
a nestbox on a garden shed, and there had been some interest from a blue tit.
Unfortunately the shed was due for demolition, so we moved the box to the
fence. The tit spent a whole day looking for it. You could imagine the thoughts
going through its head – I know it was
here earlier. Maybe if I come back later it will have returned. And then – guess what, darling, I’ve found another one
on the fence which is just as good!
And so this year we have no
residents in the box, and I’ve got no excuses. Other than looking for adders on
the common, of course. A few years ago I became obsessed with seeing a wild
adder because I never had done. Bob and I spent the whole summer traipsing
around the south of England at likely sites, only to spot an awful lot of
lizards. My daughter then suggested that, on the advice of a friend who was a ranger
on our local common, we walk round the perimeter of the heathland bit, and look
there. And bingo – a pair of adders. Since then we’ve seen them every year, and
become accustomed to their habits. The females tend to stay more or less in the
same place (you can identify them by the markings on their heads) but the males
are less reliable. They’re great subjects for photography, as they remain still
if they don’t spot you. And because they’re deaf Bob and I can split up and
yell to one another when we find one.
Two years ago, before the council
cut down a lot of the bushes by the road, we had our own Naturewatch from the first
floor bedroom window. We had a lot of foxes, and a family of badgers right
there trotting up and down the road. We don’t live in the heart of the country –
in fact, we’re a quarter of a mile from the M25, so this was magic. The king of
the road, however, was a large tomcat, who would walk down the middle of the
street, tail raised high like a skull and crossbones flag, and everyone else
would give way. Times have changed now, and the squirrels seem to rule the
roost.
The last of my wildlife
distractions is the peregrine nest in the water tower. This requires a good
telephoto lens, and powerful binoculars. But seeing dad perched on guard on the
roof, and watching the chicks try out their wings makes the ten-minute trip in
the car a huge temptation.
Oh dear. I think I’ve finished
this post now, so I’d better get back to work… Or maybe I'll just get in the car...
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