Sparrows

Over time I’d considered house sparrows as unremarkable small brown birds which shrieked rather than sang. They would congregate and breed under the eaves at the house front, chattering noisily during summer months. Early morning sleep disturbers which flittered about unnoticed.

Over the years they have declined 60% between 1994 and 2004 according to the RSPB . Come to think of it they have become more noticeable by the relative absence over the past 20 years. Last year a sparrow house was built and erected near where they had been starting to nest again. Create a sparrow street the RSPB site sang. It seems they prefer to live in colonies with their mates to chatter to and fight with all day. At the same time and unrelated to this an old wooden bread bin which enjoyed harbouring festering crumbs was converted into a bat box and hung up on the end of the garage roof. They have colonised that too.

The bird feeders have become the water cooler chat areas for the sparrows and I have noticed the mealworms put out for the robins have been snapped up by them. It seems they enjoy those as a snack too, a suggested cause for their decline being a famine of grubs to forage.

They enjoy launching off two bushes onto the feeders, their favourite being an aromatic bay tree. I like bay leaves added to dishes too.

Wildlife in the Jungle

I’ve come to the conclusion that a tidy winter garden is not a great refuge for creatures great and small during the winter months. Scour and scrape away at dying undergrowth and watch the woodlice, worms and beetles scurry away as their winter home is recklessly removed. In the past a large clump of irises had become home to a frog over winter. So those leaves stay.

Clip away at dead Michaelmas daisies and birds could be deprived of winter foods in the seeds.

The result is what would have been classified as an unkempt lazy gardeners garden is now a nature garden and my response to comments. As a pass up our lane there is an idyllic looking cottage with a large expanse of garden extending out form the veranda area down a slope towards the road. A the road edge it is banked up with a conglomerate stone wall which leans from time to time before listing and slumping onto the road, disgorging the soil and organic matter which has crept down under the influence of gravity.

The carer of the garden has no tolerance of extraneous plant material and appears to spend hours on hands and knees cutting and clipping and dragging unwanted vegetation away to the compost bin to be whisked away by the council lest it doubles in bulk and its seeds spread like a virus across the already cleansed garden. Bare soil emerges from it’s Autumnal protective coat, naked to the scouring elements for the winter. Any creature unfortunate enough to have hoped for a winter refuge must scurry away and find another hiding place.

A pretty garden in spring though? Maybe but perhaps we should be realigning our view of what constitutes pretty and see more of the natural environment as holding the beauty of life. I am not alone https://www.wormsdirectuk.co.uk/blog/untidy-gardens-make-best-habitat-wildlife/

It’s been another cold March day today with a cutting northerly wind. I did do some cutting back of very tall bay tree branches on a lofty bay bush. This bush is a refuge for birds all year round, providing a launch pad for sparrows, dunnocks, tits and others to reach the bird feeders. If left to grow with it’s usual vigour it blocks other plants nearby so sometimes a compromise is reached. The leaves make wizard like enhancements of cooking.

It’s close companion a wisteria has infiltrated the bush, winding its tendrils round and through the bay bush to emerge at the top triumphant. I wonder how many blooms will dangle from these new shoots?

Winter Kale does not make good soup!

An acquired soup maker, its liquidising skills being the main priority, does make soup speedily and efficiently. For the most part that is. Cast in chopped vegetables of any kind it seems, some lentils or cooked beans, water, bouillon and herbs and 30 minutes later a ready to sup soup appears. Or so it seemed.

Yesterday’s soup was a memorable experiment. Butterbeans and freshly hewn red winter kale leaves, garlic. This winter’s crop has been unexpectedly prolific. The most tender leaves at the top of the plants are especially crunchy and tasty to eat raw or chopped up in a winter slaw like salad. So why not add to a soup?

30 minutes later I found out why this was a badly judged idea. The soup tasted wincingly bitter and the kale leaves had refused to liquidise, resisting the blades resulting in unappetising fibrous strands. More seasoning and cream was added hastily. No change. Honey then? might that calm down the bitter taste left stubbornly on the tongue? Seemingly not and the soup tasters put down spoons and turned to toast instead.

There’s probably a scientific reason for this abrupt change in taste when souped up. I don’t remember a similar problem adding them to stir fries. More research required. Ah It seems in mashing up the leaves some chemicals were released -myrosinase enzyme and glucosinolates which the plant craftily employs to ward off hungry eaters. The caterpillars last summer didn’t seem to mind though.

Early Spring is Sprung. Get seed sowing.

Meteorological spring is here. Time to start working out what should have been sown already and what needs to go in now.

Onions from seed. They should have gone in last month at the latest. Quick scour through the box of seeds in some alphabetical order and we have… two packets of Ailsa Craig white onions, on out of date by a year one red baron variety and some remaining shallot seeds wildly out of date. Worth a try as an experiment. Experimenting can be fun as long as disappointments are expected.

Sweet peas have also been sown into trays on the windowsill. One pot with a low heat source and the remaining two with cold feet. It’ll be interesting to see how their germination and growth compares.

Also attempting to germinate on low heat are chilli pepper seeds Autumnal leeks – Bulgaarse Reuzen Lincoln and Dill. With a flamboyant leek name like that only a spectacular emergence of growth can be expected.