It's Brambling time

I thought that this year we were going to miss out on one of my favourite birds visiting the garden. Normally we have a few Bramblings coming into feed with the other finches somewhere around the end of October or early November.

I was watching the comings and goings on the feeders this morning, mainly Goldfinches on the sunflower seeds, and Blue Tits and Great Tits on the peanuts, with the occasional visit from a Great Spotted Woodpecker. Several Chaffinches were either hovering in front of the feeders for a second or two with out landing, or occasionally balancing just long enough to get out a seed. Only rarely do they land and feed for some time. I glanced at one of the peanut feeders and there was a handsome Brambling, framed by the circular hole in the middle.

As the feeder was close and the window was shut I had to take a couple of quick pictures through the glass, never a very satisfactory way of photographing. It didn't stay on the feeder for long and I didn't see it again.

The flock of House Sparrows in the garden is still doing well, and they particularly like feeding on fat-balls. Unfortunately they are messy feeders and drop as much as they eat, making the area under the bushes outside the kitchen window, were the Sparrow restaurant is, rather disgusting. I found a solution to this by attaching large plant pots to hand down below the feeders and catch at least 90% of the spillage. This empties out as a nice big pie, every now and again, and it is appreciated by various species when I put it on the tree bird table. Today there were up to five Magpies popping in to take advantage of the Sparrows left overs.

Fight, Fight, Fight

I still remember the playground cry of "Fight, fight, fight............" as two protagonists sorted out some problem that could only be resolved by a punch up. Today a couple of noisy magpies alerted me to the garden version today.

While two or perhaps more Magpies noisily shouted from a tree, two others were locked in battle on the ground.

At first it looked like a bundle of feathers on the ground, but then they sprung to life and preceded to grapple in an intense fight.

At times it was impossible to make out which bit belonged to which bird as they tumbled on the ground.

Eventually one seemed to have the upper-hand and pinned the other bird to the ground, with a claw on its throat.

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Such was the ferocity of the attack I fully expected that the dominant bird would end up killing or maiming its adversary.

In the end the grounded bird managed to break away and get to its feet, but not before it took a few blows.

The victorious bird seemed to, excuse the pun, crow over the vanquished rival before both flew of and peace returned.