Mute Swan have smashed down the fence and invaded a third one of the reed rafts at the east end of the Serpentine. I think the female swan on the left, with a peculiar pink bill, is a 'Polish' swan, but could only be sure if I saw her feet, which would be pinkish-grey. It will be interesting if she manages to nest and breed, because there is a good chance that some of the female cygnets will be 'Polish' too -- that is, they will be white instead of grey.
The crowds on a sunny Sunday had caused Blondie to hide her family in the reed bed east of the Lido. She must have guided them in through the hole cut in the net by the Coots' nest, as there is no other way for them to get in.
The family at the Lido were working their way up the railings of the restaurant terrace, soliciting titbits from the diners.
The Egyptians on the Round Pond were resting. Two of the goslings woke up, yawned and strolled around.
The sitting Carrion Crow in the nest in the lime tree near the Henry Moore sculpture felt the need to stretch her wings. She flew around for a couple of minutes while her mate looked after the nest, then came back, landed beside him, and got back on the nest.
One of the Grey Herons from the nests on the island was also flying around. But in this case the other bird was on the nest, because with Herons both partners take turns to sit on the eggs.
Almost all the Black-Headed Gulls have left for their breeding grounds, but a couple of young ones remained on the Serpentine.
A pair of Great Crested Grebes were dozing peacefully side by side. They collided with each other, woke up, exchanged a sleepy greeting, and dozed off again.
A pair of Red-Crested Pochards approached through the bumpy waves raised by the breeze.
This fine picture of our solitary Grey Wagtail was taken by Tom.
A Starling perched on a hawthorn tree by the terrace of the Dell restaurant, waiting for someone to leave a table so it could swoop down and grab some scraps.
A Long-Tailed Tit paused among some new leaves.
We haven't had a picture of a Great Tit for a while. They're so common it's easy to forget how smart they look.
When I first passed the oak tree near the Albert Memorial, the intruding Mallards were on the branch with the Little Owls' hole, but flew away when I approached. A later visit found the owl back in her usual place.