Last time I saw a greenfinch in the garden – from 2014

Dear Readers, you may well know that Greenfinch and Chaffinch numbers in the UK have been in steady decline due to the advent of a disease called trichomonosis. A recent study by the British Trust for Ornithology (BTO), the Institute of Zoology and the RSPB has identified garden feeding stations as a source of infection, especially where large numbers of birds gather. However, it’s also recognised that gardens can be an important source of food for birds, especially during breeding season, so a number of recommendations have been made. uc

1.  Both the RSPB and Vine House Farm (who support the BTO with sales of their mostly locally-grown bird seed) have stopped selling bird tables, which are seen as a major source of contamination. I won’t be using mine in the foreseeable future, both because of this, and because a largish animal has completely destroyed the one that I did have 🙂
2. Change feeding spots – in the wild, food sources would come and go, so birds are used to this, and it prevents the build up of dropped food which can attract large numbers of birds
3. Feed seasonally. Seeds and peanuts are favoured by the finches who are most impacted by trichmonosis, and they are most at risk from contracting the disease in the post-breeding season. So the advice is to provide seeds and peanuts from November to April, but to cease feeding these from May to October, and to instead provide small amounts of suet/mealworms – these will provide protein for the tits and other birds who are likely continuing  to breed, but won’t encourage post-breeding finches to gather in large numbers.
4. Provide ‘natural’ foods such as teasel, thistle and other seed plants – these will still attract finches, but not in such close proximity or such large numbers
5. If you or a neighbour has a pond with a shallow area where birds can drink/bathe, there is no need to provide additional water unless the water is frozen or has dried out. Where you do provide a bird bath, it should be refilled daily, and washed weekly.
6. And of course, the usual advice about cleaning feeders weekly applies.

I know that there are broader questions about the benefits or otherwise of feeding wild birds – research on the subject is continuing to develop, and I will post here about anything that I find. This is a nuanced and emotive subject – so much depends on the location, the birds who are visiting, their numbers and what food is being provided. But I know we all want the best for our feathered friends, so let’s see how the discussion develops.

Well, Readers, on Friday Jolene went off to her forever home, but not before giving us the fright of our lives.

On Tuesday night, John (my husband) Whatsapp’d me (while I was at Sadler’s Wells, darlings) to say that he couldn’t find the cat. He’d looked everywhere. He always closed the door behind him when he went outside to put the bins out, but could only imagine that the cat had gotten out. Yikes! When I got home, he was sitting on the doorstep with a dish of food in case the miscreant returned. We put litter trays outside the back and front doors so that she could smell her way home. We looked everywhere in the house, including the cupboard under the stairs, twice. Jolene is a very chatty cat, and it was getting on for supper time, so neither of us could believe that she wouldn’t make herself known. John went for a walk around one block. I went for a walk around another, where I met any number of cats, including a very chunky tabby on Durham Road, but none of them were Jolene.

What a nightmare. I had already catastrophised about her – was she run down? Was she lost and pathetically shivering somewhere? What was I going to tell the RSPCA, not to mention the lovely people who were coming to adopt her on Friday? Eventually we both went to bed, although neither of us could sleep and lay there rigidly staring at the ceiling.

And then there was a scratching sound. We went to the cupboard under the stairs, which we had both checked several times, and Jolene bolted out like a mad creature. Why she hadn’t made herself known earlier I have no idea. She’s hardly a shrinking violet.

More to the point, how had she gotten into the cupboard? The dry cat food is stored in there, and she’d eaten herself into a near coma – she didn’t even want her Sheba for supper. And then, when I was sitting in the living room the next day, I heard a suspicious sound from the corridor.

The minx had learned to open the latch on the cupboard. What a monkey! I hope her new ‘parents’ know what they’re letting themselves in for.

Good luck Jolene! What an amazing little cat you are.

A series following the 72 British mini-seasons of Nature’s Calendar by Kiera Chapman, Lulah Ellender, Rowan Jaines and Rebecca Warren. 

Dear Readers, it’s interesting to write this just as the RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch results for 2026 are in – the Blackbird (Turdus merula) is at number 5, the same spot that it held last year. And yet, I haven’t seen a Blackbird in the garden for several years, and there have been a number of warnings about their susceptibility to Usutu virus, which has now spread north as far as Scotland. Advice re trying to prevent our garden birds from catching it varies, but one is to make sure birdbaths are emptied and refilled every day – it appears that the mosquito that transmits the virus is also very fond of water butts, so keep those covered too! It doesn’t appear to like ponds very much, maybe because ponds are often full of predators that will munch them up.

In her piece in ‘Nature’s Calendar’, Rowan Jaines has an interesting observation on Blackbird song. Blackbirds appear to modify their songs in response to noise: they increase the frequency and/or volume of the song, and change its length and timing. In urban environments Blackbirds tend to make their communications shorter, simpler and louder. There are two components to their songs: the ‘motif’ and the ‘twitter’. A ‘twitter’ is high-frequency but low amplitude, while a motif is low-frequency, high amplitude and more melodic. In urban environments the Blackbirds appear to increase the frequency of the motifs, but to also increase the proportion of the ’emotive’ twitter. In other words, the lyrical tones noted by W.H Hudson in his book ‘Birds and Men’ from 1901 are changing in city birds to something more urgent and serious. Hudson was ruminating on something that engineer and music scholar George Grove mentioned – that the song of the Blackbird resembles human speech in its tones, spacing, and change of pace. And I think I can hear this too…have a listen to these recordings from the Wildsong website, which I’ve only just discovered, but will definitely be exploring. The author describes them as ‘the dark star of the garden’, and I’d have to agree. Cheer yourself up, and have a listen.

Dear Readers, a few months ago I read that the National Theatre was planning to create a Dyers’ garden, so that they could use the plants to dye their costumes in a sustainable way, so of course I had to have a look. It’s a rather nice space, and on this glorious day there was a young men with his shirt off reading a very serious-looking book, giving the whole place a rather louche air.

The idea at the moment is to start to build up a book of samples of naturally dyed fabrics, and they are also running dyeing workshops, yoga classes and all kinds of other things in what is a rather lovely space – have a look at the video on the link here. It also gives you an idea of how splendid the space is when it’s in full flower.

At the moment it’s a bit more subdued, but there are still some interesting plants…

Dyer’s Woad

The plant above is Woad (Isatis tinctoria), which produces the blue dye beloved of ancient Britons. I can’t help thinking about the Howard Brenton play ‘The Romans in Britain’, shown in 1980 and immediately the target of Mary Whitehouse, for its brutal scene of male rape. 

Interestingly, this plant is described as ‘alkanet’, but it’s the ‘true’ Alkanet, Anchusa officinalis, rather than the Green Alkanet that’s popping up all over at the moment. I can’t find any mention of this plant as a dye plant, though Green Alkanet is supposed to give a red dye somewhat like henna from its roots.

There are some lovely Pot Marigolds, whose petals give a golden dye….

….huge quantities of fennel  (which as anyone will tell you has a bit of a mind of its own….)

…and plenty of rosemary too!

All in all this is a lovely, little-used spot for a sandwich or a break. The National Theatre is a bit of a maze, but if you keep walking upstairs you’ll find the doors to it just below where the Olivier circle starts.

And while we’re at it, I was at the National to see ‘Les Liasons Dangereuses’ with Lesley Manville and Aldan Turner. What a deliciously nasty piece of work this is: the cruelty is very much the point. Who can forget John Malkovich and Glenn Close in the film, along with Michelle Pfeiffer and Uma Thurman? But this play ran for three hours, and had rather a lot of dancing. Dancing is cool, but it’s the relationships between the protagonists that is the point here, and there is a tauter, more menacing two hour play in here bursting to get off. Manville and Turner are both excellent, but the supporting actors weren’t quite as convincing. Never mind. The ladies sitting next to me loved the dancing and costumes, so maybe I’m just being a curmudgeon, as usual.

Some of the aforementioned dancing

Photo by Mike Segal

Dear Readers, I managed to publish this by mistake yesterday, apologies to anyone  who is now even more confused about what day of the week it is than they were before 🙂

I wasn’t sure about this poem, but the more I sat with it, the more I liked it. Especially the last few lines. See what you think. The poem was commissioned for the 2022 Trafalgar Square Christmas tree celebrations. Wakeling is also a librettist, and I can imagine this set to music.

and a tree
by Kate Wakeling

and a tree is a promise
safe-kept by a seed,
and a tree is a dance
that is swung by the breeze,

and a tree is an engine
spinning only on air
and water and light;
nothing lost, nothing spare,

and a tree is a king
who is topped with a crown,
(and a tree never once
loses touch with the ground)

and a tree is a home
with numberless doors,
and a tree is a world
for an ant to explore,

and a tree is a gift
(for a tree is a lung)
and a tree is a song
that is whispered and sung
by the bees and the birds,
and in rustles and creaks,
yes, a tree is a song
that is sung without words,

and a tree is a lesson
in the meaning of roots,
and how out of the mud
swell the sweetest of fruits,

and a tree is a story
of hope and repair,
or perhaps more a question;
a wish or a prayer,
for a tree (plus a tree)
shows us how we might share,

and when we should grow
and when we should sleep
and what we could lose

and what we must keep.

Dear Readers,  if you look very carefully through the undergrowth to the left of the photo above, you’ll see the corner of our soon-to-be-defunct garden shed. It has served us faithfully for fifteen years, and was probably here for several years before that, but alas, wind  and a bunch of garden mammals have put paid to it as a safe building. In spite of having the roofing replaced twice, it still leaked, and when it managed to short out half of the house a few weeks ago we realised it was becoming the proverbial death trap.

In addition, all manner of woodland  creatures (squirrels/foxes/mice) had gained entrance via the side panels, as you can see. Bless.

And so, as we speak, no less than four burly chaps are dismantling the shed, before it’s replaced by a new one, hopefully with a sounder roof and less easy access for the critters, love them though I do. It’s all a bit disruptive and noisy and there’s lots of coffee to be made, but it will be worth it in the end. Watch this space!

Sunrise in Coldfall Wood, spring 2020

Dear Readers, my lovely friend L is recovering from a hip replacement, but found time on Monday to pop out to Coldfall Wood to listen to the dawn chorus. As she so rightly points out, although the chorus may get a bit louder over the next few weeks, sunrise will also get earlier, meaning you’ll need to spring out of bed not long after 4 a.m. by mid June. So, if you want to catch this annual symphony, now is a good time – the recordings below were taken between 6 a.m. and 6.20 a.m. L was trying to avoid recording planes as well, but alas, we’re on the Heathrow flight path. Still, listen and enjoy!

Dear Readers, we had pretty much perfect weather for our photography walk in Coldfall Wood on Sunday – what a pleasure it was to just wander along and get our eyes in. Here’s a selection of my photos, to whet your appetite for a spring walk…

Norway Maple flowers

Green alkanet…

Windflowers (Wood anemones)

Forget-me-nots

Hybrid bluebells…

Parakeet and catkins

Photo By Zephyris at English Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6453552

A series following the 72 British mini-seasons of Nature’s Calendar by Kiera Chapman, Lulah Ellender, Rowan Jaines and Rebecca Warren. 

Dear Readers, a week or so ago we had a massive hailstorm here in East Finchley – I was amazed at the sound of the hail on the windows, and just as it was finishing, our post man knocked on the door with a parcel. He was wearing shorts, as he does every day regardless of the weather, and he is also bald, so I asked him how he’d gotten on.

“The hailstones were bouncing off my head!” he said, “And I couldn’t resist it – I had to taste one”.

“What did it taste like?” I asked, impressed with his spirit of scientific inquiry.

“Very clean water!” he said.

But what are hailstones? I realised that I wasn’t sure, and so I turned to Nature’s Calendar to see what Lulah Ellender had to say about the phenomenon. Hailstones are not frozen rain, but are frozen water droplets formed in the updrafts of thunderstorms. They are bounced about, gathering more and more ice, until they become too heavy to stay airborne and come crashing to the earth. A swathe of up to a hundred miles wide can be battered by them.

They are also very variable in size – the ones that I saw recently were about the size of a petit pois, but the largest recorded hailstone was about the size of a football. They usually fall to earth at between twenty and fifty miles per hour, but the largest can attain a velocity of over a hundred miles per hour.

And while the postman was unhurt by being caught in the middle of a hailstone, sadly this isn’t always the case: cricketball-sized hailstones killed 246 people in a storm in Moradabad, India in 1888, while a storm in Bangladesh in 1986 killed 40 people and injured 400.

Even at UK levels, hailstones can sting and bite, and who knows what changes are coming  as our climate warms? But for now, our postman can go about his business without needing a tin hat.

And see what you think of this poem by Kay Ryan. I think it captures the surprise and violence of a hailstorm very nicely.

Hailstorm
by Kay Ryan

Like a storm
of hornets, the
little white planets
layer and relayer
as they whip around
in their high orbits,
getting more and
more dense before
they crash against
our crust. A maelstrom
of ferocious little
fists and punches,
so hard to believe
once it’s past.

And then, usually, sunshine, and if you’re lucky, a rainbow…

Dear Readers, foster cat Jolene has had a bit of a mixed week. First up, when I was out on Thursday she managed to break into the container with her dry food in it, and ate about three days’ worth. She also took the lid off of the butter dish, and seems to have found that not so much to her liking as there were blobs all over the floor.

We also had some folk over to decide if they wanted to adopt her, but the lady announced that she didn’t want a cat that might bring in mice (Jolene doesn’t have the strongest prey drive of any cat I’ve ever met, but she is still, well, a cat), plus the gentleman said he was allergic to cats, which does somewhat beg the question. So that was a strong no.

On the other hand, today a lovely couple popped round with their little boy – Jolene decided that this tiny human was absolutely fascinating, and the parents are extremely responsible people who will ensure there’s no cat/tiny human conflict, so Jolene will soon be off to her new home. I’m always a little sad when a kittie moves on, but I also have that lovely feeling of ‘job done’ which is so pleasing.

I suspect Jolene might also be getting a new name, to prevent her being an ear worm every time her owner calls her in for dinner. But in case you’ve never heard the song in question, here it is….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ixrje2rXLMA