Magical
November was a mild month – too mild. Flies and other insects were still on the wing, the weeds were still growing, and the grass even had to be strimmed. But there were also some wonderful wildlife encounters, and that’s what this post is going to focus on.
The allotment fox, slipping home one late morning, was surprised to see me – and me, him. He’s a huge one, much bigger and redder than the small, dark foxes at Speke-Garston Coastal Reserve. He stood stock still at the bottom of next door’s plot, contemplating the intruder in the midst, then vanished. A couple of weeks later, I surprised him again, this time along the path to the water tap. Obviously, it is quiet enough at this end of the allotment site for him to feel safe in the daytime – or maybe the pickings had been few and far between and he was having to hunt for longer than he would have wished. Whatever the cause, he was a delight to see. Although I was less enraptured at the ‘deposit’ he had left on the lovely new bark-covered step onto the plot I’d made after watching Ma struggling one Saturday. Foxy has had a stage of pooping everywhere on my plot, in fact, which I think means he’s been using it as a home base, denning at the dark corner at the bottom, on soft, sweet-smelling bark chippings underneath the ivy.
Fox poo on the new step
Elsewhere on the wildlife front, one of the allotment robins has become bolder and bolder each passing day. I said in an earlier post that I’d have it eating out of my hand by winter’s end, but hadn’t expected that to happen quite so soon – or so brazenly. From edging towards my suet-crumb-laden outstretched hand from atop the water butt and taking a few pieces before flying off, to putting a tiny clawed foot onto my finger, to flying straight onto my hand. All in the space of a few days.
Nearly there
The robin has landed
Now, as soon as I arrive, a familiar form perches on the open shed door, flying in and trying to land on my arm if I’m not quick enough with the food; or, if I hold out my hand, it flies straight onto it and browses, unconcerned, for the largest pieces.
Hurry up!
A grey wagtail has been visiting a nearby plot, presumably attracted by the swimming-pool size (slight exaggeration) pond being constructed there. It’s lovely to see its slender lemon and dove grey body and hear it call as it flies overhead. A stormcock was singing on the 14th – always a fantastic sound to hear. On the 19th, there was a lone redwing foraging at the top of the path up to my plot, and it was still around the next day, but then gone – hopefully, it had found a flock to join up with.
One day’s count of birds on the plot was 14 species, including blackbird, chaffinch, goldfinch, nuthatch, the redwing and, of course, the robins.
The crow pair have cracked the suet block feeder, standing between two cherry tree branches, legs akimbo, braced to attack the block (sorry!). And there was me blaming the grey squirrel for the fact these blocks don’t last a day! The crows are becoming inured to my presence and only move if I approach too closely.
Crows at the suet feeder
All in all, I have been spending a great deal of time at the allotment – enjoying the presence of ‘my’ bold robin and the other wildlife that the plot attracts, and sharing a cup of tea and a biscuit or two with a good friend, whose shed puts mine to shame (to be featured in a later post).