I spent a significant proportion of yesterday watching something I’ve never seen before. Much to my chagrin our recently made-over garden has been colonised by a troupe of magpies. We only noticed one or two initially but there are at least four now, despite one chick failing to negotiate its debut flight. They are nesting quite high up in a tall conifer, which sadly means they are out of range of Callie, or Nimrod as we should have called her. They do venture down onto the lawns and flowerbeds quite regularly but so far have been too quick for our very nimble four-legged friend. However, yesterday they were subjected to a new threat and I’ve no idea why. Whilst quietly minding my own business I heard this tremendous squawking and sounds of an avian dogfight. A squadron of rooks and there must have been a dozen at least, had decided to attack the newly built magpie nest. Why? I have no idea and it really isn’t obvious. The aerial scrapping went on throughout the day on and off, before the defenders apparently emerged triumphant, the attacking rooks flying off with their tails between their wings. I would be intrigued to know what it was all about, if any naturalists out there can enlighten me please?
In between watching the aggressive aerobatic manoeuvres I retired to my favourite musing post, our somewhat dilapidated swing seat at the end of the garden. It’s secluded and peaceful and allows mental meanderings to proceed uninterrupted for the most part. Whilst gazing heavenwards I noticed that the prolific fig tree that has its roots in our neighbours garden but has extended considerably into our patch, not only has an impressive crop of maturing figs (which I love; I guess if it could speak the tree would be saying “a fig for your thoughts”?), but some elegant white blossom as well. Without deviating too far from my wandering contemplations, I took a photo of said blossom and sent it to fig tree owning friends for their opinion, because I couldn’t remember ever seeing a blossoming figus carica before and wondered if this might be another quirk of nature? They replied rapidly with the intelligence that the fruit is the tree’s “blossom” and had I considered the possibility that the flowering I was witnessing was in fact the product of another intertwined tree? Oops, how silly of me, of course it is! There seem to be increasing occasions nowadays where I think and do really stupid things. Is this an inevitable consequence of ageing?
Did you know there are hundreds of variants of fig tree with males producing three crops a year, whist the females only ripen in early summer and again in the autumn. 3-2 to the men! I’m not entirely clear though, how you “sex” a fig tree. Do the males produce bigger figs? Or perhaps the ladies bear more fruit? Could the bark of one be more wrinkled than the other? (Treading a cautious line there!) So many unanswered questions today concerning the natural world. Help!
ADayInTheStrifeOf 