[...] with perfect timing, announced by a series of metallic 'tsit tsit tsit' notes, a small gang of titmice comes bobbing over the hedges.
It’s all looking rather still and damp in the garden now. Autumn, it seems, has come at last. Over the Guy Fawkes weekend, there were reports on iSpot and Flickr of red admirals and hoverflies visiting the sun-lit ivy, but, in my garden at least, most of the ivy flowers are over and many of the large black berries are already well-developed.
I’m rather depressed by the fact that yet another front garden is being concreted further up the road, so I peer out with the binoculars, from the fire-escape balcony, over the block of back gardens, to see if I can spot any life anywhere. And with perfect timing, announced by a series of metallic ‘tsit tsit tsit’ notes, a small gang of titmice comes bobbing over the hedges and lands in next-door’s cherry tree. Brilliant.
There are four of them, and they do the airborne equivalent of scurrying about, spending a few moments examining the rather twisted apple tree and the lichen-coated pear tree, before bouncing down to the feeders and fat balls to practice their acrobatics.
It is a strange habit of these endearing and pretty little birds that, come winter, they congregate together in mixed-species flocks. And sure enough, as I struggle to adjust the focusing to keep up with their quick movements, I can make out a great tit, two blue tits and a coal tit.
Now I have to admit that I’m not really much of a bird-watcher, and it slowly dawns on me that I think this is the first time I have ever seen a coal tit out there. An oversight, I’m sure. It is exactly as I expected — smaller and duller than a great-tit, more monochrome and discrete than a blue tit. It’s as if it is trying to remain incognito amongst the crowd.
Actually, that’s probably what all of them are trying to do. There is no better way to hide than in a crowd, and gathering together in a flock offers safety in numbers. The coal tit, it seems, demure, restrained and much less bright in its plumage, is master of this art. That’s obviously why I’ve never seen one before.
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