Rocking Rooks

 

Earlier in the week I finally managed to do my annual rooks-on-the-nest count in the village. I've done this for a few years now, just in and around the actual village itself. I could expand the range of nest sites I might look at as in recent years a number of new rookeries have developed within a 2-3 mile radius. I did a quick drive-by count of those recently and there are 7 new rookeries in the area, all on fairly young trees by roads, rather than traditional mature copse and woodland trees. While it is interesting to speculate why this population boom is happening, food supply (more sheep farming on grassland, fewer cattle farms), climate change, lack of persecution etcetera, remaining faithful to my original site allows for a little consistency. Though none of what I do is scientifically rigorous. I'm just interested.

The above image gives the best view of most of the nests. During the wet and windy winter just coming to an end every nest from 2023 was trashed. By January not one nest remained, I can therefore be virtually certain all those nests I observed this week were 2024 active nests. In total I noted active nests in six different trees. Three nests are on the lane into the village, with a carrion crow nest nearby, a further nine were in two sets of trees on the village outskirts, and a set of three nests were on the farm trees about half a mile away, making 15 nests in total away from the main site. 

That main site consists of two trees holding the bulk of the nests, 23 in total. These two trees have been at the centre of rook activity for a number of years.  New for this year an adjacent tree was hosting five nests, I've not seen nests here before. In total then 43 active nests within the village or no further than half a mile away. That figure, in common with my casual observation of the surrounding wider area, is up slightly, in most years the figure is around the mid to high thirties. I used to do a count of actual birds based on two birds to a nest. Recently though I was chatting to a corvid observer who uses 2.8 birds per nest, with the 0.8 taking into account non breeding individuals remaining within the spatial cohesion of the colony during the breeding season. With that in mind, the village of Wick St Lawrence has, by my Heath Robinson efforts,  a rook population of 43 nests x 2.8 = 120.4 rooks. I may round it down to 120, that 0.4 of a bird is maybe a statistical outlier...or not very well and missing 0.6 of it's body. Eric the half rook if you will.

Given the wider circle of rookeries outside of the village and a quick count as I drove past I'd estimate within a three mile circle there could be a population of 250-300 rooks. 

As an aside, in my home I now have a pair of jackdaws nesting in the roof space of my home (lack of maintenance has a benefit). The noise they create building a nest in the void is astonishing. No doubt I'll write about these in a future post. 

Late Afternoon Walk To Check On The Crows

Time of day makes a huge difference to what is seen in the countryside. Earlier this week I wrote up on my hour or so walking and looking for corvids at lunchtime. Today I headed off on the same route though as the sun began to dip. My aim this time was to try and follow where the jackdaw head to at dusk. Their main jackdaw roost here is at Worlebury Woods about a mile away towards the sea. however a sizeable number of jackdaw head in the opposite direction at dusk and I've never managed to discover where they actually go. So with my work finished for the day half an hour before sunset I headed off into the cold. First corvid an obliging magpie.

As usual once I reached 'Rogers' farm, the rook were loafing about. Earlier in the week the pairs were on the grassland today however they were paired up and loafing about on 'artificial trees'. I noticed a couple of single birds, but on closer inspection most rook were sitting tête-à-tête so to speak, simply enjoying the last of the sun on what had been a bright sunny but bitterly cold day. 

I could feel the temperature dropping with the sun and even at this late hour of the day, last night's frost remained gripped in shaded areas. The ground was hard. Difficult foraging conditions even for rook with their dagger like bill. If the ground is frozen even if they can stab through the surface, invertebrates will have retreated further down into the soil avoiding the frozen conditions. Luckily we don't get too many deep penetrating frosts here and the farm has many rhynes and waterways with exposed banks as emergency foraging areas. Just the other side of the farm more rook and jackdaw were arriving at favourite pre-roost trees, framed by the familiar bulk of Crook Peak on the Mendips in the distance.

There was a lot of activity in the countryside though this was of a fleeting and noisy kind. I could hear carrion crow, rook and jackdaw busily contact-calling as they flew to and fro but very few stayed put on the grassland for very long. And that is the time of day. The days foraging will be over and by 4pm in mid-January it is all about preparing for the long night ahead, social calling, interactions and resting before flying to the roost. I walked on, past the chainsaws buzzing at the dew pond, and onto the church in the village. Only two jackdaw there when I arrived, and only one obliging enough for a half decent image.

The sun was starting to set quickly now and I was beginning to feel the cold entering my bones. Cold sunny days have long fascinated me. Many is the time I'd look out of the house at the clear blue skies and think I'll head out for a few hours to watch wildlife. But really to observe wildlife involves being stationary for a long time and, even at these not that cold temperatures, a chill quickly will set in. Time to keep moving and wander back slowly in the hope the jackdaw will entertain me at around 4.30pm 

The low light was fabulous and by a newly installed footbridge I noticed half a dozen winter gnats flying, their delicate bodies picked up by the sun's rays. These probably were the males, buzzing about trying to attract a female, and are commonly seen in the winter months even on cold days as long as there is a nice sheltered area warmed by sunshine. A nice reminder life carries on all year. Other than the gnats and a mallard pair there wasn't much else about.

Further along the lane however a very obliging wren flicked and flitted through one of the lane hedges. I stood for ages watching this diminutive bird calling, each time its whole body would shake and shudder as it ushered that enormous song of theirs.

And while watching the wren, I noticed more rook coming in onto the favourite tree of theirs in the village. Light levels were really starting to fall now with the sky behind me turning a lovely salmon pink and blue colour. A light that signifies a cold night ahead for the wren then.

Those low level dusk hues are a photographer's dream and while this silhouette magpie is not making the most of the colours, I found the sepia background quite pleasing.  However although there were small groups of jackdaw milling about it was already 4.30pm and the main flocks had not materialised. Presumably they've taken a different flightpath today. I carried on walking until a feature I've been observing for a few years caught my eye, again.

If I'm honest, I've no idea what is making these tracks, but they've been here for years.  I'd love this to to be otter as the track goes from the River Banwell next to the barn top right, across the field, under the fence, down the ditch, before they disappear over the lane, before re-emerging opposite, down another ditch and into the river again. A sort of semi-circle from river bank to river bank avoiding the bridge which is mid point. But I'm certain it isn't otter. While otter do cross open areas as a shortcut, and I've seen many such otter tracks before, they would probably use the river or bank itself. And I've never seen spraint by the bridge. 

On closer inspection today there isn't any obvious footprints or tail marks either, in fact there's very little to go on at all.  It could be badger, though I can't find any hair on the fence or through the brambles on the opposite ditch, plus I don't know of a sett around here. Fox is a real possibility as this is very close to where the dead fox I spotted last week was, and there are a lot of foxes around here. Or even, and I wonder about this more and more, cat, as there is a large black cat often in the field hunting. What it needs is a trail-cam to solve the puzzle but as it is in a public area next to a lane I'm not sure the trail-cam would last very long. Food for thought, though thinking this through I'm going for fox without any evidence m'lud. 

In the five minutes I'd spent looking at this animal track I was beginning to get quite chilled. The jackdaw hadn't materialised either, though a number of redwing and long tailed tit were a pleasant diversion. I decided to head home happy in myself that the nature of this area of North Somerset continues to entertain me. Just being out on a cold frosty day is enough to lift the heart.

And then when I was almost home they appeared as if shapeshifters in the gathering dusk. The call came first of course, that jak - jackty- jak as they maintain social bonds in flight. Alerted to their arrival I managed a couple of quick images of groups of maybe a dozen or more birds flying quite high right over me in fairly quick succession. I checked my watch, 4.38pm. Of course, the days are lengthening and sunset is later by around 2 minutes a day now, so their 4.30pm passing the house on Tuesday was eight minutes later today. Lovely to observe as they sped overhead but I still don't know where they go from here. That's for yet another day of watching and waiting. 

I can't wait, but I must remember time of day does make a difference to what is seen in the countryside.

Lunchtime Walk To Check On The Crows

A beautiful day. 

Here in Somerset we had thirty days of rain from the 17th of December until this weekend. It has been truly grim. But all that has finally changed. As with the rest of the country a northerly airflow has developed and ushered in much colder but thankfully brighter weather. Last nights frost was hard but here we've been spared any snowfall. Simply a crisp and beautiful day dawned.

Working from the home office these last two days I've been distracted by the corvid activity hereabouts. Jackdaw continue to use our garden as a flightpath, as they have done for years, flying in the morning and evening at eye level between our bedroom window and the fir tree at the bottom of the garden. I try and grab images of these birds as they noisily shoot by at almost hand-grabbing distance but the result is always a blur. One day, and a faster camera. 

Yesterday at dusk I noticed a jackdaw flock of around 100 birds heading to roost flying over the back field, very low and hedge hopping, presumably a peregrine or other such raptor was hassling out of sight. Safety in numbers for the smaller jackdaw, the larger rooks and carrion crow carried on as normal with their flightpaths at some height in small groups or pairs.

Today though lunch beckoned and I fancied a walk to see what's happening to the rooks up by the village. It is still very early in the breeding season, but I fancied a bit of a reconnaissance before the main event unfolds in February. I had about an hour for lunch and as it is about a half hour walk to the trees I keep an eye on in the village where rooks come each year and rebuild their rookery, I had bags of time. 

Although I live in a modern estate, I overlook unspoilt countryside. It is also very flat around here, we're on the Somerset Moors, on a flat headland jutting out into the Bristol Channel. At around 3 meters above sea level the area is hedges, isolated trees with farming mostly sheep and cattle on permanent grassland. Perfect for corvids and views. The view above is from the Chinese Take-Away not 200 meters from the house - it has to be one of the best such views anywhere while awaiting the prawn crackers, lovely sunsets in the summer. 

The first corvid I spotted was this carrion crow. I still can't work out what it has in its bill (maybe a Chinese cracker), but whatever it was this bird swooped down from a height, grabbed it and was off.

Ebdon Bow is the first place I meet on the walk after about 5 minute, a couple of farms along the banks of the River Banwell. Sometimes along the river you can see a kingfisher or heron. Today though nothing other than a pair of mallard. This is a tidal river and today it was full, the tide was obviously in. On my return journey the levels had dropped and the river ran fast and true back out to sea a mile away. Despite this being mid day it was still cold, frost lay untouched wherever the sun had failed to reach. One sad sight however was a dead fox by the bridge itself. Being the good member I am I reported the sighting to the Mammal Society on their sightings app as a road kill, but as the fox was covered in frost it had been there a while so hard to be 100% sure it was a fatality.  

Turning left at the T junction and past 'Rogers' farm, first view of the village and the first birds. A party of redwing with a few pied wagtail were gorging themselves by some cattle troughs in the field. winter thrushes are always wary, the best image I got was rubbish really. But looking across I could see my quarry in the fields and the trees. And very vocal they were too.

Wick St Lawrence is no more than a hamlet, but I've called it home since 1998. And in all those years I've kept an eye on the rooks and jackdaws. Some years are good, thirty or more rook nests, a raven nest one year, and jackdaw omnipresent.  Some years less so. I fear this year may be a lean year. While on the surface the village looks the same year in year out, there has been a lot of development recently. Trees grubbed out, old buildings converted into homes and just a general tidying up of unsightly areas.

An example of this caught my eye at one of the newer rookery sites on a bend in the lane. Last year there were half a dozen nests here in what it has to be said are not very tall willows. On today's walk, half of those trees have now gone. I'll try and find out what's happening, but this dew-pond which was impenetrable to all but a few moorhen has been opened up. My guess is that now Roger's son has taken over running the farm and converted it from dairy to beef and sheep he's opening it up for drinking water. To be fair it's not a clear fell, with some nice marginal slopes having been scraped out and a willow pollarded (those trees that have been removed looked quite rotten), but for the rooks, they've lost three taller trees leaving just two standing. I think the work has been done well so I'll keep an open mind and see what effect all this has on the overall numbers of rook in the village.

Just beyond this pond work, and nearer the village, the number of rook were increasing in the fields. In taller trees by the village they were loafing about on and around nests. I'd spotted rook on nests in Devon in late December, and again a week later alongside the M5. Whether these birds I watched today have eggs already in the nest I don't know. It is still a little early even for these early nesters. However it's obvious the nests there are substantial and well cared for after the winter winds. 

In the field in front rooks were very much paired up. Courting couples were dotted about, relaxing in the sun and even taking part in a little allopreening to strengthen the pair-bond. I watched a dozen or so rook pairs for a while. Each close to its partner, oblivious to my voyeurism, in beautiful condition too. Such a good sight to see. It's still very much winter so I only hope we don't get strong winds in February and March as we did last year which blew many of the nests out of the trees just at the wrong time.

Just a little way further on I arrived at my destination, a not that large pair of trees which for a decade now have provided the hub of the half a dozen rookeries of Wick St Lawrence. It is an odd place to build a nest site but it must work. Adjacent to a number of houses the tree canopy leans over the road where milk tankers, tractors and daily commuters trundle by. But they seem to like it and as I walked towards them there was a lot of activity from two or three dozen birds both in the tree and flying around.

However when I got to the trees they all flew off leaving just a bare branch landscape. Until November last years nests clung on to the upper branches, wind and rain since then have taken their toll and not a single nest remains. It is like this most years, these trees sway too much in the stronger winds. Come nesting time though a dozen or more nests will festoon these branches. Given the activity in and around the trees I'd expect rebuilding to begin soon, I'll notice when this begins as I drive underneath on my way to work. But for now though, simply a place for Corvus frugilegus to rest and relax in the sunshine.

I'd now been messing about looking at these crows for forty minutes, I was behind schedule and I needed to get back home and back to work. There is always a cross to bear. No time then to go and look at the jackdaw in the church tower. A trio of quick long lens images then of my favourite corvids. I'll return soon and have a proper look at what they're upto, but they are nicely paired up I see.

The return walk was quicker, but not uneventful. A pair of raven shot over me cronking madly, a species that is daily now here. And a great spotted woodpecker made passing use of a GPO telegraph pole as I still think of them. No drumming or calling from him today but a wonderful example of a right place at the right time encounter.

Finally I found myself almost back at the Chinese Take-Away when a small flock of starling made use of a couple of poplars planted decades ago in what had been the farm yard. We don't get the big murmurations of starling here but most winters we'll see at least one flock of 500+ wheeling and zooming over the house en-route to somewhere. 

That ended my walk with a flourish, just over an hour in the end and I have to say, it was not a bad  lunchtime walk at all.

Mixed corvid roosts

 

A couple of days ago I was entertained by what can loosely be described as 'a murmuration' of corvids. Of course that noun is mostly used in reference to starlings, yet on that morning what I witnessed was perfectly summed up by the word murmuration.

Corvid roosts are well known for providing spectacular displays overhead. I was once invited to view the famous Maddingly roost in Cambridgeshire with scientists from that University. On that wonderful day it was breath-taking to watch thousands of rook and jackdaw not only alight en-masse at dawn, but provide unbelievable aerial displays in the evening as they came into the roost site. What a privilege to be in amongst them, and what a noise!

And it was the noise earlier this week which caught my attention as to what on earth was going on. It was a few minutes before dawn, and in that half light a cacophony of rook and jackdaw calls drifted to me from the fields behind the house. I watched from the bedroom window. This mixed flock of around two hundred was moving swiftly and acrobatically over the fields. Some birds alighting on trees, others simply playing with the wind. Repeatedly they grouped together like black snow, twisting and turning before moving out over the landscape only to then return moments later and repeat this acrobatic show. On the side-lines carrion crow joined in and at one point a raven flew through the melee cronking loudly. I've seen these mixed flocks many times before, as I mentioned above, but always at or near to the roost site. This more recent event was across flat fields and over 2 miles from the nearest roost site on Worlebury Hill just to the south. It was all very much part of the normal behaviour of corvids at dawn as they reaffirm social bonds, however in the 20 years I've lived here I've never seen this over these particular fields. Had this flock been disturbed in the roost site and amassed over fields awaiting dawn? I wasn't sure but it was a wonderful fifteen or so minutes as the light improved.

I mentioned what I'd seen on Facebook and my friend Chris Sperring came back with an open invite to come and see his roosting corvids. These are 15 miles north of me (as the crow flies) and he mentioned that he has observed a number of ravens 'herding' jackdaw as they arrive over the woods, herding them to a specific area of the wood and therefore presumably the right part of the wood, in raven terms, to roost in. Raven have increased dramatically in this area and so later he posted a Facebook Live where indeed a dozen or so raven seemed intent on chaperoning the jackdaw to the part of the woodland the ravens wanted the smaller corvid to use that night. Time and time again watching that video, raven rose up from their perch in trees and flew with and around the jackdaw until the latter settled, with the raven then returning to their tree and waiting the next influx of jackdaw. I'll have to visit and see this for myself.

I'd not heard of this ravens providing a guard or a herding behaviour with jackdaw, or rook for that matter, so later in the evening I did a little research. Mentioned within Raven in Winter by Bernd Heinrich is an intriguing mention of Raven in Wales by W. A Cadman. In this observation from 1947 mixed flocks of corvids were observed coming to a roost with the ravens at the periphery of roost activity. This led me to another article by H. G Hurrell, A Raven Roost in Devon from 1955-56.  This was fascinating. A raven pair held a 5 acre wood as territory. While they did, they had the wood to themselves. Eventually they disappeared and a number of raven began using the wood as a winter roost, eventually over 80. However once the number of raven at the roost increased jackdaw then came to the wood and roosted there too. The summary therefore suggests that ravens provided security and support for the smaller jackdaw, both benefitting through collective feeding and roosting behaviour.

All very intriguing and leaving me wanting to know more. Are corvid roosting patterns, and indeed behaviour changing as the number of raven in lowland Britain increases? Certainly in the raven roost north of me, when I lived up that way in the mid 1990's you'd never see a raven, or maybe once a year as it flew by. Now Chris tells me 20, 30, 40 are not uncommon at night, every night.  Do these intelligent birds have a threshold number after which their influence to smaller corvids is triggered. I have read studies of ravens at a roost and there seems to be information intelligence happening, with some observations suggesting as one raven arrives one raven departs to prevent overcrowding, in other words they, the collective ravens at the roost maintain the numbers there at any one time through observation and communication amongst themselves. Society in fact. 

Whilst persecuted in the past, ravens were often describes as solitary pairs, driven to upland and wild areas. In fact throughout history ravens have been gregarious, lowland inhabiting birds, and who knows, the catalyst for extraordinary mixed corvid flocks, and behaviour as seen recently at the roost site? I simply don't know nor have the answers yet, but I have a feeling this question is going to return to me over and over again this winter, and so, I must visit that roost in the Gordano Valley and see for myself.

Carrion Crow, Regurgitated.

This morning there was a lone carrion crow in the garden. Nothing unusual about that, though to be truthful although carrion crows are common around here, as elsewhere, rarely does one come into the garden and perch on the fence. 

Julie my wife alerted me to its presence surveying the garden.  It was one of those autumnal days when everything is sodden. Not quite freezing overnight but a heavy dew covered every available surface as the mist began dispersing with the strengthening sun. Earlier I'd seen the flash of a male sparrowhawk over the garden, though I was preoccupied in other things to concentrate on garden activity. The carrion crow however grabbed my attention, crows being an interest to me. I readily forget how large these corvids are when seen close too. Much like herring gulls when in the garden, who seem to fill it with their wingspan, this crow dominated the fence. That heavy black bill directing the observant deep set eyes to survey the scene, a crow seemingly at rest. 

Though highly intelligent carrion crows (Corvus corone) are the most wary of the corvids in my experience, never letting me get close to them. This year a pair successfully raised two (possibly three, but I'm unsure) young in the trees about 100m away. Squabbling magpies mobbing the crows each time they flew into the tree alerted me to the nest back in the spring. That squabbling was to continue all summer and well into September. The adult crows used the large fir tree in our garden as respite from this bickering it seemed, but they never came into the garden. Either one or both would sit on the top most branches preening and generally observing the world, before suffering the magpies wrath as they returned to the nest. Interestingly a pair of magpies had a nest in the fir tree this year, tit for tat maybe?

Whether the bird I observed preening its wing was one of the same adults I'm unsure, though logic decrees it would be and in its territory.  After a few minutes watching this crow it hopped off the fence and down onto the gravel. There on the path it flicked over a few stones before flying up onto the shed roof. Slipping and sliding down the shed roof, the crow then hopped onto the back wall and stood for a while. A perfect poised motionless corvid. I was tempted to get my camera but knew it would have disappeared before I returned. I therefore watched. 

It was while simply observing I saw the crow open it's bill and almost as if silently craa-ing, shook it's head while keeping its bill wide open. Again the bill opened, this time turning its head in the opposite direction. It then hopped slightly to the left and opened its bill once more, this time a pellet fell out of the crow onto the wall. I've known for years that crows regurgitate pellets but I've never seen this actually happen (nor have I been absolutely sure I've found one in the countryside). It is well known that birds of prey, especially owls regurgitate indigestible food remains, but a number of other bird species regurgitate too including herons, and dabbling ducks. And also crows; thanks to the work a century ago by Sven August Heintz a Swedish biologist. Post pellet regurgitating I read a paper reviewing his work [Green et al 2019].

In this recent article by Green et al they review the work of Heintz in the context of contemporary science and ornithology. A century ago Heintz suggested at least eleven corvid species were key seed dispersal species both through cache, hoarding, faecal droppings and pellet regurgitations. One of the species confirmed as doing this was the hooded crow (Corvus cornix), which in 1917 was then considered the same species as the carrion crow, with the former just more plentiful in numbers in Sweden.   

Heintz stated that "It is well-known that some members of the crow family (Corvidae) are important for seed dispersal either via frugivory (e.g., when feeding on berries) or by scatter hoarding (e.g., of nuts).....corvids are partly granivorous and have long had a reputation for causing damage to cereal crops"

[Heintz] "... carried out germination experiments of the contents of regurgitated pellets and excrements from Magpie and Hooded Crow. Most germination trials were carried out in early spring, of seeds that had been collected the preceding autumn or winter. Although many seeds germinated within a few weeks, trials were run throughout summer and autumn..... in total Heintze identified 157 plant taxa from 42 families which were dispersed by corvids by endozoochory (dispersal via ingestion)

Heintz concluded “It appears that within these zoogeographic areas [the Holarctic and the Neoboreal] corvids are the most important seed dispersers among all landbirds.” 

All of the above I gleaned from reading Green et al after watching the crow on my garden wall. Which after regurgitating its pellet flew off, allowing me to collect it (image above).

At the time of writing I have not dissected the pellet though on external examination it is packed with what will be indigestible seed husks and what look like acorn remains. Which was interesting in itself, as the literature suggests most regurgitations occur when crows feed on beetles and other invertebrates with tough carapace or wings. A quick search on the internet drew a blank for grain derived pellets. Could it be that seed based pellets are less obvious as they fall apart and are dispersed by wind more readily?  More investigation needed I feel, although given corvids are very granivorous during harvests and in autumn, it is not surprising really what this pellet contains.

That simple act of watching a carrion crow in the morning opened me up to the work of Heintz which until today I'd not known about. I'm not alone it seems. A quick scan through indexes in various books I have on crows fail to mention Heintz, seemingly Green et al are correct in their own conclusion that the work of that Swedish scientist a century ago has largely been forgotten, but it stands the test of time and is as pertinent today as in 1917. 

Reference :

Green, Andy J, Elmberg, Johan and Lovas-Kiss, Ádám (2019). Beyond Scatter-Hoarding and Frugivory: European Corvids as Overlooked Vectors for a Broad Range of Plants. Front. Ecol. Evol. | https://doi.org/10.3389/fevo.2019.00133

Magpie May

Not the best pictures I've ever taken (quickly taken through the kitchen window while rushing to work, making me late) but this is a great example of why over the last decade or so I've got to admire corvid intelligence so much.

This magpie is in the garden all the time, but recently has begun feeding from the seed feeder. With one leg on the wall, the other pulling the feeder near enough to feed, it happily munches through the seed. Many people would resent a magpie in the garden but I love them, And being an intelligent species I hope that next week I'll be posting images of it actually filling the feeder and doing a bit of housework. 

But look at the colours on that tail too. And the wing coverts. Many corvids with long tail feathers have this colouration in various degrees of intensity. Given this is breeding time the colours are intensified. What is interesting is we don't really see this blue, it is a polychromatic effect caused by light splitting within the feather structure. As individual cells of the feather are formed, they contain keratin which separates out in a number of strings, a bit like oil does on water. As they mature and then die this liquid dissipates and air spaces form in the void. Thus, when white light strikes a blue feather, the keratin pattern that remains causes red and yellow wavelengths to cancel each other out, while the blue wavelengths of light intensify and reflect back to the beholder’s eye. 

Earlier in the month I was staying at my parents house in the North East of England. In their garden is a huge holly tree. Which now that they are not as mobile as they were, sits in a garden that is reverting to wildlife in a magical way. Holly blue butterflies swarm around the tree, coal tits, greenfinch, blue tits, starlings and sparrows make their home in or around the garden. But what caught my eye this time was that a magpie pair have made a nest in the top of the tree. Nothing remarkable in that other than given all corvids are quite wary of man, nesting in a garden is a real treat. I struggled to get images of the birds entering the nest, but these will suffice as a record of nature taking over the homestead. 

The nest is just left of top dead centre in the above image, and here it is on zoom. Those holly leaves will give some protection from carrion crows I'll bet!!