Yew fruit

A Blackbird ate the fruit in the yew tree north of Peter Pan.

A Robin in the Flower Walk responded to another Robin's song, and scratched and flew away.

A kind diner at the Dell restaurant had put out the remains of an avocado and quinoa salad for the pigeons. They weren't madly enthusiastic about it. If it had been chips there would have been a frantic mob of pigeons.

The Little Owl at the Round Pond was in an impossible place in the horse chestnut tree. After I had been blundering around trying to find an angle for a half decent picture, she kindly called and flew to a branch where I could see her better.

I couldn't find the Little Grebe. Careful inspection of all the buoys it could have been lurking beside found only an inquisitive young Herring Gull pecking at the orange plastic.

One of the three youngest Grey Herons was on a plane tree across the water from the Serpentine island ...

... another was in the next tree ...

... and the third was in the nest staring at them.

Two pairs of Great Crested Grebes were having a territorial dispute at the bridge. This female is now completely in monochrome winter plumage.

The other pair were displaying to each other, as they do during these confrontations to show solidarity. 

Shovellers usually feed on the surface, scooping up water and filtering it through their enormous bills to extract small edible items. But when there isn't enough on the surface they change their style, and upend and dabble like Mallards. These were on the Round Pond.

Three Cormorants formed a sinister group on the fallen black poplar in the Long Water.

One of the foxes in the Dell chased a squirrel, which escaped up a tree. The fox looked hungrily at it ...

... realised there was nothing it could do, and found a comfortable sunlit patch of dead leaves to settle down and have a rest.

A Small White butterfly browsed on a catmint flower in the Rose Garden.

A Common Darter dragonfly landed on the path at Peter Pan for a moment, just long enough for one not too good shot.

I had been photographing the roots of the Lombardy poplar here, which leans over the lake at a perilous angle. The roots are infected with Poplar Fieldcap mushrooms, whose mycelium spreads white rot through the wood. I've been waiting for years for the roots to snap and the tree to crash into the lake, but it's hanging on doggedly.