Where have all my blackberries gone? And what about my strawberries? And the cherries?
Where have all my blackberries gone? And what about my strawberries? And the cherries?
Perhaps the fledgling blackbird (pictured) can provide some answers. From its nonchalant stance and innocent look, I can't believe it's been helping itself. But why else would the birds want to be in my garden unless I shared my produce with them?
I understand the meaning of the word sharing, but I don't think it features in bird vocabulary. It certainly didn't for the collared dove that sat motionless in my cherry tree during June, hoping not to be seen. Only when I got too close to the tree did it give itself away, flying off at top speed. I'm surprised it could still fly, given that it was stuffed full of cherries.
Next it was the potted strawberries, brought into the warm and protected environment of my greenhouse to ripen in time for Wimbledon. When I came to harvest them, bowl in hand, the fruits were gone.
Now it's the blackberries, which are just starting to ripen and will hopefully provide rich pickings over the next month or so. If my eyes aren't deceiving me the ripe ones have gone. Is that blackberry juice dribbling down the beak of that bird up there?
What I need is some netting ... a barrier to keep them away. I've covered fruit with netting in the past but always worry about catching and harming wildlife unintentionally, so this year I tried making do without.
Well, I've learned the hard way. Until the birds in this country learn the real meaning of sharing I'll be forced to resort to netting next year.
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