With six buzzards and a pair of red kites circling over the relatively small stand of trees that I call Badger Town 2 this morning, there is likely to be great competition here for both nesting facilities and food. The wood is a mixed stand of thoughtfully planted larch, pine, oak, birch and beech, surrounded by a frontage of holly, hawthorn and gorse. The whole thing is only 400m x 40m, and I have recently also watched jays, woodpeckers and nuthatches disappear inside to join the 30-strong badger clan.
On one wet afternoon recently, at least 500 rooks deserted the fields and took shelter beneath the canopy. It was a dreich day, and as the sun caused a light steam to rise from the treetops, I was privy to the most musical and beautiful forest lullaby, reminiscent of a rainforest. The birds hummed, mewed, chunnered and whispered – a different kind of murmuration – and although there were no howler monkeys, there was the equally discordant call of a single grey heron when the rain stopped. The reptilian predator soon departed, but did stop to snaffle a careless frog in an overnight flood pool.
