THRUSH: wind-blown disaster in the garden
IF you've ever watched a thrush extricating a snail from its shell, you've got some idea of the determination of this clever, busy bird.
Time and time again, it will crack the shell against a stone until it finally gains access to the juicy prize inside.
Even an especially tough-shelled snail will usually be snatched out and eaten in the end, such is the thrush's single-mindedness as it toils for its food.
The thrush's vividly speckled breast and light brown feathers easily distinguish it from the similar sized, brown female blackbird which feeds at the same locations.
The thrush's determination in pursuit of snails also extends to finding worms, insects, fruit and berries to see it through the harshest of winters. We have two resident species of thrush in this country, the Song thrush and slightly larger Mistle thrush.
Neither seems anywhere near as common to me as I remember them being as a child, but then the same goes for most birds.
Mistle thrushes, in particular, can be reckless in defence of their nests and will even drive away a cat or human with a few well-aimed pecks.
It must therefore have been a Song thrush that I remember as a child nesting in a flower pot thrown randomly into a privet hedge in our garden. I can still recall the thrill of peering into that privet, gazing at the mother sitting tight on her nest while she grimly stared back at me, less than an arm's length away.
I have no idea how long the pot had previously been stuck in the privet hedge but it seemed to make a perfect nest site for this mother.
However, it was not as perfect as I thought.
Days later, high winds struck the area and I woke the next morning to find the mother bird fled, the pot upturned, and the blue speckled eggs broken and wasted on the ground.
That, unfortunately, was that.
As well as our own two resident species of thrush in the UK, we play host to two 'foreign' species that visit us each year in large flocks.
Of these, the Fieldfare is the most elegantly coloured with a grey head, red-brown back, and brightly speckled breast.
Its cousin, the Redwing, meanwhile, is the smallest of all four species and boasts a distinct reddish tinge beneath its wings, hence the name.
Despite their smaller size, Redwings travel from as far away as Iceland to winter here each year, although many are believed to perish en route. Poet Robert Browning seems to have been quite taken by one thrush's singing voice.
"That's the wise thrush," he wrote."He sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture, The first fine careless rapture." Reminds me of someone I know, after he's had a drink or three.
