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wagtails visited during the coldest weather).In spring a pair of great tits and a blue tit used my garden to snack on peanuts while foraging for their young. They were all gone by July and my garden was, once again, Pigeon City. In October there were still

. But the blue tits and great tits that I watch in the birch trees opposite just viewed my offerings with suspicion.On twelfth night, my partner and I took down our Christmas tree. It was still green and had most of its needles intact, so we moved it to our bare

of food, but what about the blue tits, great tits and other small birds? If only I could tell them how much high-energy food is waiting for them in my garden.No matter how hungry birds are, they'll only visit gardens in which they feel safe. A bird

to be a robin or a blackbird - both may sing at night and have similar songs.I'm reasonably good at identifying birdsong - I can tell a robin apart from a blackbird, a blue tit from a great tit, and identify more distinct calls such as that of the chiff

was prompted by Butterfly Conservation's Big Butterfly Count.From 16-31 July, Butterfly Conservation hopes thousands will spend just 15 minutes counting butterflies in their garden, local park, field, forest or school. This will help the charity monitor

the wiser.I only get pigeons regularly visiting my garden. Last winter I made efforts to entice smaller, hungrier birds, and managed to attract a desperate pair of wagtails, a blackbird, a robin and a blue tit. They disappeared as soon as the ice thawed

tiny) garden.The garden isn't perfect and I've a long way to go, but I've documented my success by the variety of garden visitors I've gained since the transformation: blue tits and great tits, bumblebees, butterflies, moths, slugs, snails and leaf

ready for the council to come and collect. On some of the leaves were ladybird pupae, while spiders spun new webs in the wreckage. There may also have been chrysalises of the holly blue butterfly, whose caterpillars feed on ivy in summer. They

I've had a great gardening year. It's hard to imagine my garden now as it was a year ago - a building site, with a huge pile of sand at one end and 200 paving stones and builders' rubble at the other. Then there was an awful lot of mud as we

with the garden wildlife, or at least I liked to think so. I remember my dad waiting for the blue tits to leave the nest box so he could quickly lift me up and show me the baby birds inside. Once, aged two, I found a worm that had been pecked at by a bird, so I