Wren in the Rose Garden

A Wren jumped around in the the pergola in the Rose Garden, singing. He will have a harem of several females in nests around here.

The Blackbird in the shrubbery was in a panic as usual, flying about and giving alarm calls. It looks as if he's nesting. No doubt a Magpie had got too close.

A Chiffchaff sang in a tree near Peter Pan, moving to a different twig for each phrase and only occasionally coming into view.

There were three Blue Tits at Mount Gate. This is evidently a pair in the dogwood bush.

Two Pied Wagtails were hunting from the moored pedalos. Midges swarm here to catch in flight, and there are more insects in the bird droppings on the boats which the staff struggle unavailaingly to remove.

The female Little Owl at the Serpentine Gallery was out all day, and these two views were taken two and a half hours apart.

It's a safe place when there are no leaves on the tree, right next to the hole so she can dart in if danger threatens.

The two young Grey Herons are now spending most of their time down on the shore of the island, only returning to the nest when they want to be fed. This is the time when they must learn the essential skill of fishing, and they have to do it themselves as their parents don't help.

The heron sitting in the nest at the west end of the island got up for a moment.

A heron and a young Cormorant stared together across the Long Water from the remains of the fallen horse chestnut tree, now reduced to a few bare branches.

A pair of Great Crested Grebes displayed at the east end of the Serpentine, where they are establishing a territory. There is a place they can nest here, though not a good one, on the edge of the reed bed.

A Coot chased a Moorhen up on to a planter in the Italian Garden.

The Black Swan had lost sight of his Mute girlfriend and was cruising around the lake calling her. His call is not part of her very small vocabulary and probably doesn't mean anything to her, but she's fond of him and would come over when she saw him.

The killer swan and his mate were making themselves comfortable on the nesting island in the Long water, a process which involves ripping up every plant within reach.

The Mandarins were still at the Lido, a pair and an unattached drake who had been chased off to an unchallenging distance.

A pair of Gadwalls mooched around under the railings of the boat hire platform.