The Mute Swans from the Long Water have now firmly established themselves on the far side of the bridge, probably dreaming of exclusively owning both lakes. They had made an encampment (rather dung-encrusted, it has to be said) on the path below the Triangle car park, and were frightening the more nervous passers by. Several people made a detour rather than walk past them.

A younger cygnet from the second brood was flapping its tiny undeveloped wings.

Swans don't grow proper wings until they are several months old, which is just as well considering how unmanoeuvrable they are in the ir, always at risk of crashing into obstacles.

The Coots nesting in the small boathouse have one chick, which has jumped down into the water and has no way of getting up again. Its mother is still sitting on unhatched eggs. But the father is feeding it, and it may have a chance.

The male Little Owl was on his usual branch in the chestnut tree. The warm weather reliably brings him out.

Underneath the next tree, a Blackbird was pulling up and shredding a cobweb,presumably getting trapped insects out of it. I've never seen this before.

A Song Thrush was sunbathing in the leaf yard, absolutely at ease.

While I was unsuccessfully looking for the Tawny Owls, I heard Treecreepers calling from a nearby tree. When I approached they froze motionless on the bark, as these birds do to conceal themselves -- and how well camouflaged they are when they stay still.

After a couple of minutes they relaxed and ran up the tree in their usual way.