The ice has melted, but now we have a gale instead. It swept over the Round Pond. Canada Geese, a Coot, a Black-Headed Gull, and a young Herring Gull rode the waves. I wonder whether King William III, who had weak lungs and couldn't stand the smoke of central London, ever regretted having transferred his palace to this exposed spot.
When you see two Black-Headed Gulls moaning at each other and walking around together, it can be hard to tell whether they're courting or it's a hostile display between rivals. This one turned out to be hostile.
The dominant Black-Headed Gull who claims territory on and around the landing stage perched on a post and kept a watchful eye out for intruders.
There are still more Cormorants than you'd expect in late winter when they have eaten most of the fish. Seven can be seen here on the Long Water.
Farther up the lake, the Egyptian Geese from the Italian Garden had come down to the posts at Peter Pan, no doubt hoping that someone would turn up with a bag of bread.
The male Great Crested Grebe of the pair at the bridge could be seen indistinctly through the willow tree.
The male from the island was in the sheltered water on the east side, hurrying to meet ...
... his mate.
One of the Moorhen pair in the Dell was on their favourite rock drinking from the stream.
As the wreckage from the Wasteland is hauled away, the next birds to return are the Pied Wagtails. Three could be seen distantly from the fence.
Another visited the boat hire platform, deserted because the place is shut on Mondays and Tuesdays.
There are now several Jackdaws regularly in the Rose Garden. It's taken them ten years to expand their territory to the east end of Hyde Park after they returned to Kensington Gardens in 2014.
The Song Thrush appeared again near the Queen's Temple. I hoped the sunshine would persuade him to sing but he wasn't in the mood.
The dominant Robin came out in the Flower Walk ...
... accompanied by Blue Tits ...
... and a storm of Great Tits. The supply of pine nuts is running low, I must buy more.
"A storm of Great Tits" ought to become one of those wonderful collective names like a murder of crows, a charm of goldfinches and a wisdom of owls.
ReplyDeleteThe most storming birds, I think, are Starlings. The standard collective term for them used to be .'murmuration', referring to the chatter of a treeful of Starlings, but this word has changed its meaning and is now used to mean one of their massed evening flights.
DeleteI had always wondered why they were called a murmuration! Always something to learn from you.
DeleteIt's a lovely word whatever it means.
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