Nibbling my nuts

Regular visitors will now that I enjoy feeding our feathered visitors to the garden. One of the nicest things about moving from Cardiff to the relative countryside was that our feathered acquaintances, once large mobs of sparrows overlooked by Don Corleone-esque seagulls, became more colourful. More varied. More exotic.The downside was that it seemed to be costing me more than ever to feed the little things. I was beginning to wonder how much seed a small robin could eat. And I’m sure the local hardware shop were beginning to wonder if I was trying to make some Cruella da Ville-like coat of many feathers, the entrapment of wild birds being the only possible justification for buying industrial quantaties of birdseed each week.

Now I know.

Let me introduce to you two new additions to the world of birds that is, on a somewhat smaller scale, our garden. Firstly, the rare squirrel-bird. Notice it’s grey colouring to help with camouflage, it’s feathers almost looking like fur, and it’s extra long tail feathers. I always like to imagine the Mission Impossible music whenever he enters the garden.

Secondly, there’s ‘mousey’. A very small bird, brown in colour with a single long tailfeather and pronounced beak. I like to imagine some tuba and flute music when they’re around.

So there you have it. All the creatures living in a kind of Paul McCartney/Stevie Wonder type harmony, all in my little garden. Where will it end? From my youth I’ve been led to believe that all the animals in the woods get along in a neighbourly manner, and all talk. That means soon there’ll be all sorts of animals popping over for tea. Eventually word will get around, and I can only assume that one morning I’ll awake to find a seriously jet-lagged and annoyed African Elephant who’s just stepped out of a cab from Heathrow because his distant nephew recommended popping over the Chipping Sodbury and nibbling on me, er, seed.