All gob and cheep, the blackbird chicks see beyond the nest. Shadowy figures, other birds, dogs, squirrels, rain, shine, wind, voices, traffic … the next phase will be to launch themselves into all this. If they do, all hell will break loose.
It does. It feels like ages since the blackbirds began building a nest in the big Fatsia plant next to the sitting room window. What began as a discreet cup in the fork of branches became a cornet of stick and grass stem thatch, long enough to support a larger nest bowl. The evergreen hands of Fatsia leaves hid the nest but its construction and the shifts of parent birds sitting on the eggs could be seen from the window. How many eggs were laid is unknown but the parents were constantly bringing worms back, at first for each other, then for the hatchlings. Sometimes in the early morning and late evening, the male would perch on a tree top; he rarely sang and would make mostly soft, contact calls.
