A Blackbird's Tale/Tail

I was recently sent this heartwarming story of survival and loyalty.  

The little cottage in which we live is a fine place from which to watch birds. Once humorously described by a friend as "that shack on the beach", it overlooks a shallow tidal bay, to the east, where various species of duck and geese and all kinds of waders thrive. It is otherwise surrounded by farmland with mature hawthorn hedges, except to the north where the belt of willow, alder, birch and pine which we planted many years ago now provides us, and many species of small bird, with excellent shelter.

While my wife and I both care about the environment we come from different directions. She is a qualified biologist with a solid knowledge of birds while I come from an engineering background, and have only a general knowledge of wildlife. However, I firmly believe people are not entitled to assume that they have rights beyond those of the other animals, or the birds, and I have been known to cause trouble when someone claims that a badger has dented his car!

While I enjoy watching and listening to all of the birds which surround us I especially enjoy the larger song birds, mistle thrushes, blackbirds and song thrushes who visit us. Earlier this year a very handsome male blackbird was a frequent caller. Soon he seemed to accept our presence in the garden and he chose an alder and a pine from which to proclaim his territory. I thought him a remarkably fine singer, better even than Pavarotti, the song thrush who performed here last year. I named him Pavi, and we accepted him as a friend. We didn't see his mate, but when he started collecting beakfuls of worms we knew that there was indeed a Mrs, and looked forward to meeting her.

Pavi worked tirelessly collecting food and taking it home and gave thirty minute recitals, sometimes more, morning and evening each day. Some time ago I was in the recording industry and one sunny day I took out some old equipment, set up stereo microphones near Pavi's favourite alder and after recording for almost three hours secured a thirty minute recital on tape. It was not perfect, but it was encouraging. A friend was pleased to lend me  better microphones but unfortunately circumstances changed.

On the afternoon of Sunday 26th April I was working at our sailing dinghy when my wife called from somewhere else in the garden:

"Somebody has got Pavarotti!"

I ran round the corner of the cottage and found her beside a patch of grey/black feathers, at least a yard across. I didn't want to accept it, but there was no other possible victim. A sparrow hawk, a peregrine perhaps? Various birds of prey visit us from time to time and of course they have to live too, but why poor Pavi? I was very upset, surprised to realise how much I had grown to regard that bird as my friend. We stood together for a while looking helplessly at the patch of feathers. Pavi was gone. I went back to the boat, feeling very despondent. My wife later told me she went looking for "clues". As she approached the shelter belt she found a few black feathers and thought Pavi might have been carried off in that direction. There were no traces of blood.

We went in for a cup of tea and wondered about Mrs Pavi and the kids. We phoned a friend who is an acknowledged expert for advice and, perhaps, sympathy.

On Monday morning we got meal worms from a pet shop, as our friend had suggested and put some in places where we thought Mrs Pavi might look for food assuming, that is, that she had not deserted the nest. We did not know where the nest was but we had some idea of the routes Pavi took when he went shopping and planned to put some live mealworms out on alternate days, under particular trees and on a slate in the corner of the lawn. Could she cope on her own, we wondered? Monday was calm and sunny, but quiet. We did some work in the garden but saw no sign of Mrs Pavi.

Tuesday dawned bright. After breakfast my wife called from the kitchen:  "Come here quickly!"

She pointed out the back window. In the garden was a male blackbird. His head feathers looked ruffled. His right wing was crooked and there were tail feathers missing. On his sides were large light grey blotches. Pavi had escaped! But only by the skin of his teeth, it seemed. Maybe he had dropped those few feathers when making a dash for home. He had a beak full of worms and slugs and was going about his business, if a bit shakily. He hopped round the corner so we didn't see him fly, although he must be able to do so but how, we wondered, with wing and tail such a mess. Never mind, there he was, alive and getting on with his work. Absolutely bubbling, we headed for the swimming pool and the shops.

Returning at lunchtime we came round the bend near our entrance and spotted Pavi poking away in the grass by the roadside. As the car slowed he flew into a hedge with his beakful of worms. Once he spread his wings we saw a wide stripe right down his back, bare to the skin and pink. There was no sign of blood. The damaged tail and wing looked most unbalanced but did not seem to hinder flight. Shocked by the great bare stripe, we could only wonder what sort of terrible struggle he had had and how he had managed to escape.

On Wednesday morning we saw the Mrs  for the first time, collecting meal worms, and later on Pavi was out looking for worms and slugs. On Thursday they were again taking turns as any pair would and so it seemed that, thankfully, life was once again going on as it should for our blackbird family.

Surely at this stage we can reasonably hope that in the very near future a few young blackbirds will spread their wings and set out to make their own way in the world inheriting, no doubt, the courage and resolve of their father.   

If you have any stories of befriending birds or survival against the odds, I'd love to hear them!  (Names have been changed to protect the privacy of the blackbird family!!)