There’s been bedlam on our lawn. Anne threw out some stale bread. When she did there wasn’t a bird in sight. Almost immediately one sole sparrow arrived. Very soon the lawn was alive with them, quarrelsome and frenetic. How do they communicate? Scouts on patrol, a series of control posts, sound as well as sight? Whatever the method is, it is effective.
A plump blackbird pair was there very quickly too. They eat differently. Each carries a piece to the shelter of the fence under the camellia tree. There they peck at leisure. When they come out for another piece, a pack of sparrows descend on the vacated spot looking for crumbs.
And then three starlings arrive – I hazard, mum, dad and a late junior. Freebooters, they wade in, the sparrows parting as they approach. One, seizing a large piece endeavours to fly away with it. The bird gets airborne but as it gets over the neighbour’s lawn looses its grip. A convoy of sparrows swoop over the fence. Easy pickings.
A chaffinch appears on the scene. Late gleanings.
All the while a fantail flits and jinks above them all. Insects, its prey. I award it top marks for performance. The rest, sterling efforts at entertainment.