Up until yesterday the bird box at the bottom of the garden was as busy as could be, Great Tit parents flying back and fourth like feathery bullets, feeding loud, demanding chicks. On Sunday the chicks were big enough to occasionally stick a grouchy looking beak out of the door and shout for Mum and Dad. I spent time every day watching and listening to the nest, but yesterday I got home and it was silent.
I watched for a long time and saw no harassed parent birds shooting back and forth, and heard no demanding chicks. My heart sank; had the nest been abandoned? Or had they successfully fledged? This morning and this evening there was still no sign of them so Colin scrambled down the slope and listened to the box. Silence. There was no life in the box. Certain there were no living chicks to disturb we opened the box to see if the chicks had fledged or been abandoned. Well OK, Colin opened the box, kindly saving me from the potential horror of a box of dead chicks.
The nest was empty. They'd flown! What a relief. What we did find was an exquisitely soft and squidgy bed, made of moss, feathers, conifer leaves, dog fur, cat fur and grass. I think I recognised the great balls of fluffy fur from when the lady across the road brushed her remarkable fluffy dog a few weeks ago, making impressive balls of fur that blew along the street.
After a few minutes of fascination we cleared out the nest, hosed down the box and washed it out with boiling water. Once it's dry Colin will put it back up again and we'll hope for another nest next year. The first year it was there no one showed an interest but I was delighted this Spring when I saw some birds examining it before moving in. It's been wonderful to watch them and wonder how the chicks were getting on. Now they're gone I miss them, I'd got so used to them, but there's always plenty to see and hear outside. Right now I can hear a cocktail of bird song and ducks, crows and pigeons are flying low past the door. The starlings are chuckling on the hill and a squirrel has been hoping around on the fence. It's a busy, wild little slice of world out there.