I have frequently plundered my wildlife observations for
characters. From The Wind in the Willows
to Watership Down, it’s been a staple
fare for so many authors as it’s direct observation that informs the writing,
rather than second-hand information. That’s the way that errors creep in. Many
years ago I was illustrating a natural history book, and one of the items
required was a swordfish. Like most people, I imagine, I assumed a swordfish
was black on top, and silver beneath. Random house, the publisher, sent me a
lot of information from the National Institute of Oceanography at Southampton,
and to my surprise I discovered they were copper-coloured. The first books to
illustrate fish were printed in black and white, and what happened subsequently
was that illustrators relied on these pictures, made assumptions based on other
big fish like tuna, and got it wrong. (Actually, even tuna have a yellowish
stripe down the side.)


Last year we didn’t even notice that the great tits had set up home in the one nest box without a camera, until I heard the babies tweeting. Both parents stayed the course, but unfortunately we were away on the day the chicks all fledged, although we did see mum feeding them afterwards. This year we had a great tit sleeping in out camera box every night, and popping in from time to time during the day – and then she, too, disappeared. We do have sparrowhawks that occasionally visit, and one of them ate a collared dove beneath the bay tree. We’ve seen a crow kill a starling, as well.
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Redpoll |
There are amusing episodes, of
course. The jackdaws that played volleyball with a fat ball. The long-tailed
tit that was convinced its reflection in a door-handle was a rival. The magpie
that mischievously tweaked the tail of a feeding crow. The squirrels that
regard any new bird feeder as an intelligence test – and usually win. The
cleverest incident was when our resident genius, Einstein, realised that he
could detach the entire feeder so that it fell on the grass and became accessible
by turning it round and round so that it unscrewed itself.
We’ve had some unusual visitors
from time to time. Eight years ago we had a flock of waxwings which hung around
for a couple of weeks, and this year the redpolls have been back for the first
time in ages. We’ve had a pheasant, a heron, blackcaps, two varieties of
woodpeckers and ever increasing numbers of ring-necked parakeets. Peregrine falcons
have been nesting down the road on an old water tower, but were sadly absent
last year. Usually, they raised two chicks, but one year they managed four,
which was when we realised that they are the only birds capable of catching
parakeets. Fast food!

Tansy always reminds me of a stabber-bird, thought Betony, with her
long nose and her snaky neck.
In Back to the Divide, there’s a spell which turns living things to
marble, and anything that touches one of them turns to marble itself. It
occurred to me that the first things to be affected were the little things…
The fly was now solid marble. There were other marble creatures down
there, as well. A couple of ants, a mosquito, and a woodlouse. They were
strangely beautiful, their tiny bodies white and lustrous.
Even the demanding behaviour of
baby birds came in useful when the griffon Thornbeak laid an egg…
Thornbeak
was sitting at the edge of the shallow depression in the middle, and watching
the egg intently. It wobbled slightly, and a brief staccato of tapping issued
from within.
“It’s hatching,” she said softly.
Turpsik had a feeling that a baby brazzle wouldn’t be the most
endearing of infants. It would be practically bald, squawk a lot, and peck at
anything within range.
5 comments:
Loved this, Liz!
Life is so much richer than townies like me appreciate. Thanks, Liz.
I live a quarter of a mile from the M25, too! Yesterday a blue tit started to build a nest in our camera box, arranging the twigs, treading down some moss, and then another blue tit flew into the box and nearly murdered her. It was the most vicious fight I have ever seen. Sadly, she hasn't been back. This has happened before - the intruder doesn't want the box for herself, she's just annihilating the competition. Very sad, as with the amount of food we put out there's enough for everyone.
Thanks for this vivid post. It's evident that your keen eye for details and your love of nature animate your descriptions of animals, and of characters developed from them.
At the moment, we are host to one of the most aggressive male robins I've ever seen. He won't tolerate the sparrows at the feeders (much they care); he has a go at wood pigeons four times his size, he picks on the blackbird -- and he doesn't give a spit for us. Lands right by us and cocks an arrogant snoot.
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