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Wild doorstep wonders

Back in February our volunteer, David Merry, didn't have to venture far to experience some memorable wildlife wonders. Read all about them.

In late February we experienced an eerie heatwave, and I spent some time in the garden for the first time this year.

Our home was filled with the territorial calls of garden birds. Two male robins battled for territory, whilst a wren with its powerful trill forcefully claimed its place in the garden. I also discovered that the dunnock, with its unremarkable plumage, has rather a pleasant song to sing. Three dunnocks darted and careered around the garden, with the female wing-shivering and shrilly calling to the two males at the start of their complex courtship. Local magpies collected sticks for nest building, marking the countdown to their breeding season in late March, and in the undergrowth something else stirred, a mouse claiming it’s territory for the coming spring.

A group of jackdaws flying into their roosting site at dusk

Jackdaws coming in to roost by David Merry

Just to remind us it’s still winter, jackdaws and other corvids (members of the crow family) are still roosting at dusk.

Close to my home is the site of a social roost where corvids gather in the daytime, however, there are no nests at this locality. Some experts believe that social roosts near good feeding grounds are information centres where these highly intelligent and social birds share knowledge on the best sites to find food. They also believe that the crow species should be considered as ‘feathered apes’, with their intelligent altruistic behaviour in food sharing and complex social interactions.

As dusk slips slowly in, we can hear their powerful ‘tchack, tchack, tchack’ or ‘kaaar, kaaar, kaaar’ calls as they congregate on rooftops and in trees.

A group of jackdaws roosting in a tree at dusk

Jackdaws roosting by David Merry

As a flock, and at some hidden signal, they take flight towards the edge of the wood, flying in from all points of the compass toward the roost. A cacophony of greeting calls fills the air as each bird finds its place within the roost. Latecomers perching in the wrong place are greeted with a chorus of disapproval from the flock, until they take flight again and circle around the roost to reposition themselves.

This pre-roost seems to last between 20 minutes to half an hour before, in the gathering gloom, the flock disperses into the night.  This remarkable spectacle of bird behaviour fills me with wonder and takes place only a street away from my home.

Back in the garden I started seeing an uninvited but welcome visitor. Our shy, skittish guest would appear under the bird feeder and then just as quickly disappear back into the rockery. I would see it in the early morning running along the far edge of the patio, back and forth between the birdseed and the cover of thick ivy.

A pair of wood mice crouched together in leaf litter

Wood mice by Margaret Holland

Our guest was nothing but hard-working, making countless trips to harvest seed and suet. 

Initially it was difficult to identify, because this small rodent was seldom still. But the more I quietly watched, the more I could make out its large eyes, ears, kangaroo-like back legs and long tail.  I feel so lucky to have glimpsed this wood mouse (otherwise known as the long-tailed field mouse), one of the commonest of UK mammals. 

This is mainly a nocturnal animal, and to avoid predation it has prominent large eyes that give it superb night vision. Our visitor was often seen disappearing behind the hedgehog house, so I decided to investigate, mainly to check if the hedgehog was still in hibernation or had moved on.

On slowly lifting the lid our small visitor ran from the box and wriggled away thorough the garden fence.  The hedgehog had indeed moved on, and in its place was an elaborate honeycomb of passages in the damp straw.  Small separate chambers, many filled with bird seed, offered an amazing view of a miniature treasure of natural design.

The field mouse only lives for one summer and will live in communal underground burrows in winter. It appears that I have encountered a female mouse trying to find its own territory and build a nest in preparation for the breeding season in March.

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