Pandemic

No, not that pandemic, but the outbreak of avian flu that is particularly bad across the country this year.   Migrant birds may have brought it here – seabird colonies and flocks of wild geese have been much affected – and it has now reached our parts.  It’s highly contagious and apparently birds die very quickly after catching it.  The estate next to the village brings in large numbers of pheasants for shooting, which have come down with the disease; they roam very freely around the area, spreading the flu to at least one of the village farms, whose hens all died yesterday.  500 of the pheasants have also died;  the prospects don’t look good for the other chicken flocks round here (and our local supply of eggs will be disrupted for some time).  Fortunately hardly any pheasants and few partridges have been wandering into the garden this autumn, so perhaps our land isn't badly infected.

But I wasn’t entirely surprised to find a dead woodpigeon under the holly tree today.  It hadn’t been attacked; it just looked as if it had just keeled over, so I’m assuming it was another casualty of the flu rather than a victim of a predator.  I found it a burial place in the front border by the wall.  But we’re hoping that our many other birds in the garden and beyond stay clear of the disease, especially the birds of prey such as the kites which might scavenge on the carcasses of the dead pheasants.  Ultimately, though, there’s not much we can do about it.

Our lame woodpigeon Lefty is still hale and hearty, and has been clearing up the dropped scraps under the fatball container when the sparrows are having their fill.  We’re hoping he’ll make it into 2023 when he will be at least 10 years old (we first noticed him in 2013, see the blog from that year).

Lefty and the sparrows

The weather has been on the mild side for November, but rather wet on the whole.  While stacking firewood for the winter, D noticed that the birds had been making use of the woodstore over the summer – there are two nests tucked up under the roof on top of the wood.  We left them there at least for the time being in case they are of use as a winter roost!

Nest in the woodstore

Returning home

Back home after more travels, this time to eastern Europe, where the weather was unseasonably mild and sunny (whereas at home it was wet and windy).  It seems that we’re not the only ones returning to the Cotswolds from the northern parts of Europe; the fieldfares and redwings have arrived in our absence.  At the moment they are mostly turning their attention to the rowanberries, in competition with the blackbirds and starlings, who are taking a dim view of their presence, as is the plum tree woodpigeon who is also trying to shoo them away when it finds them perching in his tree.  I wonder if the blackbirds are also migrants?  We haven’t had much blackbird activity for several weeks – a pair had been feeding on the cotoneaster berries in the front garden but staying away from the main garden – so perhaps these are a different pair.

Rowanberries in the garden

The apples will need to be picked and protected from the birds now that the weather is turning cooler, although some of them are still ripening on the trees, especially the Coxes.  I mentioned in the last post that the Blenheim Oranges were particularly large this year; the biggest eventually turned the scales at just over 500g (about 1lb 2oz).  And there are plenty of cooking apples to store for the winter.

Big 'Blenheim Orange'

Apples still ripening on the cordons

The dahlias haven’t produced many flowers this year, which is my fault as I haven’t planted them out properly.  Something else that falls into the ‘must do better’ category for next year.  There have been three fine ‘Café au lait’ blooms and a few on one of the Bishop’s Children plants.  I’ve always preferred the single dahlias over the showier doubles, but having cut a few doubles in a neighbour’s garden for a village event I’m at least partly won over; this one is past its best, and the photo doesn't do its colouring justice, but it had lovely delicate blue-tinged edges to its petals, and I could be persuaded to grow it in future.

Big dahlia from Liz's garden