The brutal side of Carrion Crows: one eats an Egyptian gosling snatched when it strayed from its parents on the edge of the Serpentine. But to a crow it's all the same -- get food, eat it.
Another Egyptian mother kept her young close.
A pair of Jackdaws posed prettily in blossom. Charming as they are, they wouldn't hesitate to snatch a young bird from a nest.
A Magpie flew out of a tree near the Dell, pursued by a furiously rattling Mistle Thrush which perched on the branch of a birch tree to recover its composure.
The Magpie had got too close to the thrushes' half completed nest.
This is the pair of Mistle Thrushes whose nest in the Dell was predated earlier, probably by a Magpie. The new nest is far too exposed. They need to find a sheltered place in an evergreen tree.
The male Nuthatch in the leaf yard came to my hand several times to take pine nuts.
A Wren beside the Long Water sang deafeningly just over my head, and stayed in place long enough for several photographs. It's amazing how loud this tiny bird's song is when you're close to it.
The female Little Owl of the pair near the Albert Memorial was out on a branch of their new nest tree, seen rather indistinctly in the morning mist.
The female owl near the Henry Moore sculpture also came out briefly.
Two of the young herons were out of their nest.
But they are still always returning to it.
There was a glimpse of a Little Grebe on the Long Water.
The Coots at the Dell restaurant have abandoned their huge partly completed nest near the Serpentine outflow, and have built a new one in 3 feet of water, using entirely new materials. Their energy is amazing.
The male Mute Swan stood guard on the little island in the Long Water while his mate was on her lunch break. You can't see how many eggs there are because she covered them up before leaving.
A pair of Mandarins stood on the collapsed but still living willow tree next to the bridge.
Six Pochard drakes and a female have unexpectedly appeared next to the Serpentine island. Our winter migrant Pochards left weeks ago.
The Jackdaw picture looks again so much like a Japanese painting that it'd merit a haiku!
ReplyDeleteCoots' energy seems boundless. I fear the day it should be turned to evil.
Wrens's song to me always means a flowering of hope in unexpected places.
Blossom on the branch.
DeleteJackdaw chatters to his mate,
'Time to make a nest.'
Ralph's muse never fails to deliver!
DeleteIn a very small envelope.
Delete