Blackbirds are, of course, black. Everyone knows that. And, in it’s own way it’s true. However, amongst themselves, blackbirds are more adventurous. Quite a few we meet, as we ‘do our rounds’, have added a splash of white here and there in no particular design – a sort of rustic look. Then, there is the reddy-chestnut, speckled outfit that we have in today’s photo. Quite becoming, don’t you think?
The nice thing about this time of year, as we move deeper into winter, is the number of old friends who suddenly seem to have missed us. (They’ve been very busy, you know. Pair up, lay eggs, raise the kids until they show at least a little independence – then finally get them to move out and get on with their own life. Parenting does take up so much time.) The Robin, who would flit off before we came within twenty yards, is now sitting expectantly on the bird table. The Blackbird, who scurried into the hedge at the very sound of our footsteps, now peeps out with a friendly tck tck tck as we pass a few feet away. Even the rooks, whose sharp eyesight warned them of our approach long before they came within camera range now sit sunning themselves as we walk underneath their tree. It won’t last, of course, but while it does – it does make us feel as if we’re beginning to integrate.