Search - Articles

While many plants have been late to flourish this year, I’m pleased to report that the blue and great tits that forage in my garden every spring are bang on schedule.Regular readers of this blog will know that every year my tiny courtyard garden

Our first barbecue of the season was Sunday 3 May, so much pottering about in the garden sunshine. It's all happening out there now. Last week there were 13 newts in the pond, we couldn't move for holly blues and then the swifts were back. It

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

Santa.It all started when the delivery of a new drill and drill bits coincided with my having a bit of wood left over from a green roof I made for a friend. I knocked up two blue tit boxes in a flash, then another. Before I knew it I was scouring local

in particular diving in and out of soil beneath my feet as I fork over flowerbeds.January is the time I like to put up the bird nest boxes, or clean out old ones that were used last spring. I've already noticed a few blue tits around, exploring existing nesting

Watching blue tits hopping in and out of one of my nest boxes at the weekend, I was reminded of another important job for this month. I need to open all the boxes around my garden and clear out the old nesting material.I know that one of my boxes

. 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

The bright Sunday morning sees me and nearly six-year-old scootering around Crystal Palace Park looking at dinosaur statues. We make a right pair — he clattering on the blue plastic three-wheeler, me skidding on the chrome micro. In order to avoid

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