14. May 2025
The meadow beyond the garden has been cut. In the centre of the bare field sat a Common Buzzard (Buteo buteo)—silent, still. After a while, it rose with slow, steady effort, lifting itself into the wind, and drifted beyond sight. Overhead, the breeze carried hundreds of dandelion seeds, white and weightless, crossing the blue in lazy flight.
Morning chill still lingers, but by midday, warmth returns. After days of stagnation, life seems to move forward again. Yet the ground is dry. The water barrel by the house is nearly empty.
At the feeder, a Great Spotted Woodpecker (Dendrocopos major) visits daily—most often the female. She pecks with purpose at the sunflower seeds, oats, and a slick mixture of fat and oil. A Common Starling (Sturnus vulgaris) joins her, less shy now. Greenfinches (Chloris chloris) and Hawfinches (Coccothraustes coccothraustes) arrive in quiet pairs. Not every day, but often enough to feel familiar.
A Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica) entered my house through the back door today. She flew a gentle loop through the bathroom, examining vents and high corners, then vanished again into the yard. She returned twice more, each time bolder—once even exploring through the house, and then finally left. I hope she does not try to nest here. She is welcome, but this place holds too many dangers—dogs, cats, and now and then a Sparrowhawk (Accipiter nisus) that cuts low across the yard.
The birdbath and the smaller drinking dish are busy now. Sparrows and tits come to sip, even the starling takes her turn. With so little moisture in the soil, I will place a wider basin farther out in the garden. Quiet water. It may help more than I know.
21. May 2025
The dandelions have vanished. In their place is now blooming clover, buttercup, silver cinquefoil, bellflower, and vetch. Rain has returned, and the air is cool again. Temperatures dropped from twenty degrees to fifteen. Nights are hushed. Few insects stir beneath the porch light. Only two moths came: the Sand Bordered Bloom (Isturgia arenacearia) and the Garden Carpet (Xanthorhoe fluctuata).
The scarcity is plain. House Sparrows (Passer domesticus) now bring their young directly to the feeder. So do the starlings. Today, a Hawfinch pair appeared with two fledglings—whole family gathered on the edge of the tray.
This season is difficult. Cold and rain during nesting strain even the hardier birds. Food is short. Adults must choose between warmth and nourishment. Insectivores suffer the most—swifts, swallows, tits. Blue Tits (Cyanistes caeruleus) sometimes raise only four fledglings from nine eggs. For the swallows still on eggs, there may be luck in delay. Their chicks, at least, are not yet exposed to the cold.
Others manage better. Starlings, blackbirds, thrushes—ground feeders—have earthworms to draw from the damp soil. Their broods are thriving. For the rest, only warmth and sun can reopen the narrow window for a second brood.
This should be the last day of the rain, let’s see, what’s next.
