A Song Thrush at the Diana fountain sang at dusk on a grey winter day, like the one that managed to cheer up even miserable old Thomas Hardy -- see his poem here.
But the weather was mild enough to bring the male Little Owl by the Queen's Temple to look out of the hole.
A female Blackbird flew into a hawthorn near the Italian Garden ...
... and moved to the tip of a twig to eat the remnaining fruit.
A tree beside the Serpentine was full of Starlings chattering and whistling. They flew off apparently in unison, as these birds with fantastically fast reflexes do.
A Coal Tit stared from a tree at the southwest corner of the bridge ...
... and the usual Robin was here too, looking suspiciously up at a Magpie.
By the time I got to the Rose Garden it was starting to rain, but the reliable Robin appeared in a rose bush ...
... along with several Blue Tits.
The female Pied Wagtail often seen by the Serpentine hunted insects on the boathouse roof, came down to check the kerb, and visited the electric boat charging platform.
A Carrion Crow stood on a stump planning some ghastly exploit.
The male Peregrine was alone on the tower, scratching his chin.
Pigeon Eater's mate kept his place on the roof while he was off shooing the other gulls.
Just like yesterday, there was one Grey Heron in the middle nest and another above it. They must be mates, not rivals as I thought, and their occasional lunges at each other a sign of affection.
A Great Crested Grebe was fishing under the willow near the bridge.
The single Egyptian teenager was by itself beside the new reed beds. It's beginning to get its adult face with a dark eye patch.
The young Mute Swan that had come down in the Italian Garden has managed to get out safely. -- it's not clear how. Jon saw it on the Long Water this morning, separately from the killer's family, who were still all there when I went by.








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