Everybody's woken up and come out to play

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The garden is full of animal life this morning. Two pigeons are being relentlessly pursued by a magpie up in the Alders, whilst below them a little gang of blue tits and great tits are acting like Kamikaze pilots, swooping up almost to the peanuts before realising that I am too close, halting in mid-air and doing a swift reverse back to the fat feeder at the bottom of the garden. Between these two levels is a constant flickering from tiny hover flies who are weaving drunkenly in almost horizontal patterns. Every now and then a noisily buzzing bluebottle joins them and an orange tip is butterfly is doing the rounds, but for the most part the flies are just dancing madly to their own beat. Across the stream in the park the municipal lawn-mower is making a racket, which the birds struggle to compete with, though some, including a handsome blackbird are rather gamely trying. And ever so often a thread of gossamer floats past the french windows. I like to think that this is a spider taking a gentle ride to pastures new, but it could be that one has sussed out the situation, realised the strategic importance of the french doors and is now building an enormous web in the hope of never – ever – having to bother catch supper again.

• 27 Apr, 2010
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