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A few weeks ago I mentioned an apparent demise of local Common
Blackbirds. Early yesterday, while searching a neighbouring hedge-line
(usually, at this time of year it contains two or three active nests) for lost
balls, I kept an eye out for blackbird nests. No luck with the latter, but
recovered three tennis balls.
Then, during breakfast, we were regaled with distant blackbird song, looked
out and saw a male blackbird atop a power pole, fifty metres away, singing his
heart out.
Throughout the morning, the sable songster treated us to several pole-top
serenades. Even as the temperature nudged 30 degrees, there he was, singly madly
in the noon-day sun. We concluded he was a deserter from the Barmy Army, and
retired to watch the outcome of the cricket.
Happy with the result, we belted more tennis balls into the neighbour's
hedge until there was a successful appeal against the light and a
neighbourly appeal for a bit of hush.. Then, in the 10 PM darkness, our
blackbird burst into song again. We wish him well, and look forward to the
Boxing Day Test.
John Layton
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