Red and gold flickers in a tree mesmerised me; Goldfinches flew away with my heart, I wonder how I missed these natural miracles. Grandad Fred’s passion for birds passed in the Genes.
Binoculars swinging around my neck, treks and holidays were all about birds. Red kites soared on my travels through Wales; the Isle of Mull did not disappoint when sea eagles displayed, bee eaters in Portugal led to squeals of delight, amazed gapes when Toucans flew over in Argentina.
Now like a bird I adapt to change.
My love affair with Minsmere in
was rekindled when we made our first post BT journey
in 2009. A scooter loaned from the reserve replaced my legs; reservations about
riding were soon put aside. Anxious not to run over toes I
started on snail mode but quickly progressed to Hare. Flying along I chased
birds, basking in the bright sunshine leaving Mr H trailing behind. Suffolk
At home a slideshow of birds constantly runs; one feeder located at the front is watched in a horizontal position from the settee. This year the cast has increased, twelve goldfinches, take breakfast, lunch and dinner, intermittently accompanied by blue tits, great tits, robins, and to my utter delight black caps. Black birds watch over the scene pecking from the ground. Pigeons are allowed a look before I shoo them away.
The second feeder at the back was not so popular with my birdy friends… until this spring. As writing becomes my new career, mornings find me nestled in my
Nan’s blue rocking chair typing. The birds follow. As I
type the black caps fly in, they hesitate on the perch before taking a mid
Joined by a great tit they flutter away.