It’s not just the snowdrops that – deludedly perhaps – think spring is on its way. The birds are showing signs too, in their inimicable fashion: they’ve started fighting again. So far the blackbirds have mainly confined themselves to a few skirmishes, which is a shame because when blackbirds really start to fight it’s a sight to behold. They completely ignore anything which isn’t a blackbird and they are proper battles: a real knock-down drag-out feather-pecking squawking combat to the death, sometimes literally when they’ve decided to hold it in the middle of the road. I’ve almost cycled over a pair of them when I was under the impression that they would get out of my way. If Five ever run out of humans willing to sign up to one of those total combat type programmes they could always stage some bird-on-bird encounters. Nobody need know until they tune in that they mean the feathered kind.
But the real bird brain round here is our local robin. He chases off the chaffinches and he’d have a go at the blackbirds too, if they weren’t three times his size, but he reserves his ire for the real enemy: the robin who lives in the wing mirror of our car.
This is not doing anything for our paintwork, I can tell you.