For The Birds

The snow is slowly making its way off, exiting stage left. Google Weather Report did turn up with a brand new snow storm for this week – but nobody asked him to play his party piece and the snow stayed propped up in the corner. I did feel a little sorry for him, but he should have known better.
This week we are all about birds. The Blackbird’s song is actually part of the mating ritual so he only sings in spring. As it’s nearly a year since his last performance, he needs to have a little practise before he feels confident, and we have been hearing the odd warble from the bushes.
The Song Thrush has shown no such restraint, and is, already, belting out his favourite aria from the top of the silver birch at dusk each evening. The Robin, too, is well ahead of the game and telling anyone who will listen that he will not accept the slightest impertinence – from the safety of the centre of the hedge.
Today’s picture is of a Chaffinch, they’re suddenly everywhere, What they lack in vocal gymnastics they make up for in numbers. I suspect this guy is from last years hatching – he’s got that cock-sure teenage attitude about him. He’s wondering if there are any girls watching him and if they think he’s cool – or whatever word the current generation decided to use. They were the first to think up this whole boy/girl thing, after all.