Piccadilly Circus

At one point this afternoon, as we looked through the kitchen window, Smithers and I were mesmerised by the sight of about fifteen birds, some darting back and forth to the feeders and some dive bombing the clay dish on the path nearby, which I keep filled with water from the water butt for them. 

All the birds seemed to be fledglings; I think they must have been introduced to the wrencottage café and watering hole by their parents, who had become fed up with providing meals on wings, and had then disappeared, leaving their offspring to practise without Mum and Dad’s help …

I counted seven birds all together in the clay dish at one point, but only managed to get a shot of six of them – one great tit, and five blue tits. The great tit seemed to enjoy getting in and splashing, but the rest clearly preferred to drink the water, constantly dipping and bobbing their heads to draw sips up their beaks. I did wonder in passing whether there’s any residual taste of whisky in the water because, as you may remember, our oak water butt originally came from a distillery. That might explain why the water is so popular with the birds!