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Volume I - A Blank Canvas
Gardens are bloody marvellous, aren’t they? They combine to make the largest single largest habitat in the UK and they’re a vital refuge for so many species that call our yards home. All throughout the dreaded first lockdown, I could think of nothing better than to spend furloughed afternoons lounging around in that glorious spring sunshine. Instead, my pokey flat and diminutive balcony was my only sanctuary. Now, as the second lockdown is upon us, I’ve thankfully had a bit of a change-up. After moving house before Christmas, I’ve upgraded my balcony to a sizeable proper garden, with real grass and everything! It’s just a shame that British winters are so glum and cold.
I’d had gardens previously so I had lofty expectations for my own patch. My old garden in Norfolk was not only home to rafts of sparrows and starlings but I also spotted barn owls, bullfinches and even a turtle dove. I’m not being hyperbolic when I say that I’d expect nothing less than a golden eagle or a capercaillie. They migrate to Essex, right?
So, where to start? Well last I checked, wild birds don’t tend to respond to Facebook calendar invites and large signs with ‘WORLD’S BEST GARDEN, VISIT NOW!’ many not be the most effective of advertising. I had a wall to the right, a fence to the left and a dishevelled combination of the two to the back of the garden. There were some shrubs left behind but no trees or bushes. The previous owners hadn’t been attracting birds previously, so it really was a blank canvas. No other neighbours appeared to have feeders or birdbaths so instantly, it looked like an uphill struggle. As the old saying goes, build it and they will come - so up went the feeders on day one. An assortment of fat balls, peanuts and wild seed was on the menu, so what’s not to love? Like a kid at Christmas, I put the food out, scurried upstairs and glued my nose to the window, waiting for the first takers.
Alas, it wasn’t that simple. At every 5 minute interval, I’d peep my head past the curtain in hope that something feathered would pop by. Granted, this was probably why nothing visited, but I just assumed all birds hated me. I hadn’t felt this rejected since I was last a job-seeker. You start to doubt everything, whether the garden is good enough, whether anything will ever visit. Would my garden just become a green wasteland where birdseed goes to rot? This was about two days in. I wasn’t coping.
Then, as all hope was lost, recompense for my persistence dutifully arrived. A glance from my window one morning was met with a seemingly unfathomable sight. Hours of anxiety were replaced with a moment of pure glee. BIRDLIFE. IN MY GARDEN. This moment could not be understated. From a biodiversity devoid wasteland to essentially Eden, and it only took ten days. Of course, the question on your lips is, which bird was it? Well the eagles were clearly lost en route and the capercaillies must have been stuck in traffic so instead, I had to settle for the next best thing. Woodpigeons. Such an elusive species and very unlikely to see in a garden...
They’re birds, they count. My garden biomass was that slight bit bulkier now and despite not being the pot of gold I cherished, they were the first step. What I soon discovered was that with no thick tree cover nearby, the smaller birds were exposed and thus not so keen. The bigger birds, however, had soon discovered a smorgasbord of potential winter food and came to visit a lot quicker than I anticipated. A resident magpie dropped by to chomp on suet pellets, a carrion crow swung over to see what was what and a pair of collared doves made a daily pilgrimage to the patch. They all followed each other and clearly felt mutual comfort in the presence of other birds. It didn’t stop the woodpigeons from fighting the magpies but that’s the circle of life.
For every great tale, there must be protagonists and of course, there must be villains. Soon, all my hard work to attract the birds looked to be out the window as it became clear that there was an impenetrable force soon to tarnish the garden. Cats. No, not the god awful film but actual felines. It turns out the garden is a convenient alleyway for these furry scallywags. Their very presence putting off any suitors, which undoubtedly sucks. It’s not just one either, there’s a whole troop of different cats assuming what’s mine also theirs. I’ve had cats all my life and this should have come as no surprise to me. This is a battle that is surely too vast to overcome, but I’ll do what I can to humanely control it. Sadly, getting a dog won’t solve the problem (so let me know if you have any reasonable solutions!)
So that’s the humble beginning really. From no wildlife to a stream of regulars in around a month is a decent result. Considering it’s a painfully urban setting with no other bird feeders anywhere nearby, in the context, this is a triumph. If you’re not sure you can attract birds to your garden then mine is living proof you CAN and relatively quickly. My hope for the future? I’d like to put out some more feeders, learn more about the plants in my garden and hope by the spring, small birds feel comfortable to stay here.
Oh, and I want my capercaillie.
