Bringing up baby

I used to stop feeding the birds in spring and resume in autumn, assuming that there was plenty of natural food available for them  between times. But then I decided to carry on through the summer -  no harm would be done by providing some extra. The feeders hang from my bedroom window (to be cat-proof) and today, looking up from below, I was amused by this scenario: a fledgling blue tit perched above the feeder was being fed on particles of peanut extracted by its parent who fluttered up and down between the two. The infant was able to fly but had perhaps not acquired the flight control needed to reach the nuts. 

(Adolescents  have such large appetites - I remember this from when my sons were teenagers. Luckily they learnt to forage for themselves at an early age; I just had to keep the feeder larder stocked up.)

The blue tit was one of the species up for election as  UK National Bird   last week. The vote  went with a huge majority to the robin  (a vicious murdering bully)  possibly, as someone suggested, because it was the only one that could be recognized by most people. My choice, the feral pigeon, was not even in the running.