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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Environment
Kate Bradbury

Country diary: Five fledgling robins disappear into the wild

The five robin chicks before fledging.
The five robin chicks before fledging. Photograph: Kate Bradbury

There are few songbirds in my neighbourhood, thanks to a deadly cocktail of plastic and paving, climate change and high numbers of predators. There’s little natural food, but adaptable species make do – crows moisten bread and meat in my bird bath, squirrels are given peanuts. These species don’t just outcompete the smaller birds, they eat them too, taking chicks direct from the nest.

It’s nature, of course, but the adaptability of the predators gives them an unfair advantage. Then there are the cats – it was cats that got the goldfinch chicks, just like the magpies got the robins and the squirrels raided the blackbird nest for three consecutive years. (Nature Girl, here, gets all the gruesome stories.) I feel the losses. Goldfinch numbers have halved since I moved in, the blackbird that sang from my roof is gone. I rarely see robins.

This year I did see robins. I watched them courting, the female splaying her wings when she chose a nest site deep in the stems of my hop plant. I was ecstatic, but realised it wasn’t me they’d come to nest with, it was the dog, who isn’t keen on squirrels, cats and large birds in her territory. After apparently years of failed nest attempts, could Tosca bring them hope?

One of the fledglings in Kate Bradbury’s garden.
One of the fledglings in Kate Bradbury’s garden. Photograph: Kate Bradbury

I recorded the nest for the British Trust for Ornithology’s nest watch scheme, which involved taking photos of the nest when the adults were out of the garden. I found six eggs, and then five chicks. Suddenly nothing was more important.

I filled bird baths and soaked mealworms, and left tablespoons of worms in piles around the garden. As the nestlings grew they became noisier, and so the dog and I moved outside. I bought a parasol for the table so I could work. We kept our distance, but remained on guard.

Early one morning as I ate breakfast on the bench, all five tumbled out amid much peeping from the parents. We moved inside but watched from the window – one by one they disappeared into distant gardens.

I don’t know how the chicks are now, how many escaped the attentions of predators. But I know I did my best for five little robins that fledged their nest. There may yet be more songbirds in my neighbourhood; I may yet see more robins.

• Country diary is on Twitter at @gdncountrydiary

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