We have several blackbirds that potter round the patio under the bird feeder. Some of them are quite possessive and others make the effort to get along. There seems to be a family of a male, a female and a youngster, the female and the youngster tolerate each other – a mother and a teenager I suspect, they don’t speak the same language but they do have a large pile of dirty clothes in common – but the male is determined that it’s time that that layabout was out of bed at a reasonable hour and out of the house trying to find a job. He misses no opportunity to put this point of view across, should they ever be in the same patch of garden.
This particular chap had grown tired of relying on the largess of the great tits. They do distribute the seed from the seed feeder fairly randomly but when it comes to the fat balls, ‘One for me’ seems to occur far more often than ‘One for you’.
His supply chain has disappointed him and he is not convinced of its environmental credentials. He has decided it is time to cut out the middle man and deal directly with the source. He does agree that sitting on a branch eating may not be the best of manners, he does know how to scratch among the leaves with the best of them. It’s just that there are times when it is more convenient to put your knife down and hold your fork in your right hand.