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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Environment
Jason Smalley

Country diary: I appear to be in a relationship with my local jackdaws

Jackdaws in Jason's garden
‘Pouring in from a brightening sky, they would drop down as soon as I spread their grain.’ Jackdaws in Jason's garden Photograph: Jason Smalley

It began innocently enough. Back in the spring I bought a five-seed Garden Gourmet mix, and the sparrows, dunnocks and robins all politely took their turns. A sackful a month procured from the local grain mill slowly turned into the dawn chorus.

And then they came: a sooty pair of jackdaws, scouts from the colony that breeds in the quarry, their grey heads bobbing, greyer eyes clear and alert. Oh how I loved it when they brought two more. Soon they became six – my own chattering of jackdaws to accompany my morning rituals: coffee on the hob, feed the cat, seed the birds, retire to watch.

Then there were 10. Pouring in from a brightening sky, they would drop down as soon as I spread their grain. Twenty minutes and they were gone, fattened and full, flying back to their nesting sites in the quarry-top trees.

Thirty. A black blaze of hungry energy, gorging their way through a whole sack in a fortnight. I noticed our elderly female neighbour opposite peering through the curtains as the shadow horde swarmed and swirled above, the silence of our cul-de-sac broken by the cacophony.

Sixty. Rooks also now joined by a couple of magpies and a pair of carrion crows. A veritable corvid bounty that clouded over my head should I dare to forget to feed them. Then they brought young fledglings. Wings flapping, beaks agape, screaming at their parents, who tried their best to keep up with hungry demands. A sack a week is now my payment for this entertainment.

As summer draws to a close, they’ve fully moved into the area, roosting in the nearby Scots pines, awaiting first light to commence their daylong conversations – our new soundscape. They condense from the trees as I leave the house, sending our cat into hiding.

Eighty now. A seethe of dark feathers oiled by the morning sky. How do we navigate our parting? Corvids are known to bring shiny gifts for humans. But what have they left me? An ink cartridge on the patio table – I suppose I’d better write about them before reining in this relationship. After all, our neighbour needs her sanity back.

• Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at guardianbookshop.com and get a 15% discount

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