Do TWO coos, Paddy: the love of two Woodpigeons

Here's lookin at you ,  kid!

Woodpigeons are having a high old time at the moment! This pair spent most daylight hours for the last couple of days wooing each other. Well, Lady Woody fed herself up, ready for egg-laying and Mr Woody followed her round, rolling his bloated crop and tummy on the grass while "mooning" his back end where he hoped she might notice!

 

 

Ignore him, he might go away

 

 

 

 

 

Like the Collared Doves I blogged about yesterday, there was plenty of shouting the odds today.
The Collared Doves do a relatively genteel: "U-ni-ted! U-nit-ed! U-ni-ted! U-ni-ted!"
The Woodpigeon's usual chant goes more like: "Do TWO coos, Paddy! Do TWO coos, Paddy!"
No wonder the missus looks like she doesn't want anybody telling her how many coos to do!

"Better spruce myself up...oooh! Where's me head gone?"

Lots of preening went on. Nobody seemed all that impressed.

Right, blow this for a game of soldiers, I'm legging it!

Update on the little Woodpigeon squab

If you read my last bloggery at the weekend, you might be wondering what happened to the little Woodpigeon who was attacked by an adult Woodie and seemed to react so little to everything going on around him.


Well, to update you, the little chap was sitting in the middle of the lawn later that evening at about 9pm, out in the open where any predator could grab him. Suddenly the big grey tomcat from a few doors away appeared at the far end of the garden and began to fixate on him and home in step by step. It lunged at the little pigeon and seemed to jump over him as the hapless squab flapped its wings but did not seem hurt or much bothered. 


The cat saw me in the conservatory and made no further attempts on the baby pigeon's life, as far as I could observe. Eventually the cat moved off the way it had come, stalking round the pigeon without giving it a second glance. The pigeon continued to sit huddled in the same position before shuffling off just before 10pm into the undergrowth (euphemism for the parts where my garden is rather beyond my strength and finances at the moment to keep weed-free!). At least he would be sheltered there, I hoped. But I haven't seen him since, and I suspect he may have succumbed to some other predator since his miraculous delivery from pouncing puss. 


I hope you had a gentle end or a blessed deliverance, little one.


I sat on until the light had completely dwindled to dusk, hearing the sounds of the approaching night and watching a hedgehog exploring and having a drink of the water I put out for the birds and creatures on the pebbles under my lilac bush.


So the longest day has come and gone. Bless the Lord who creates and sustains such a fragile, fantastic kingdom, and entrusts it to our hearts to protect and enjoy.

Squabs and squabbles

Just been observing some extraordinary behaviour that I have read about but only witnessed for the first time this evening. A Woodpigeon squab, a baby pigeon who hasn't fully fledged yet, has been in the garden on and off for the last couple of days, looking rather dazed and subdued. He can feed himself, but pecks at grain and seed on the ground in such a desultory way and seems to spend most of his time sitting with eyes closed or half open, head sunk deep into his neck and slumped inert. Not long ago, I looked up to see an adult Woodpigeon jumping on top of this baby, viciously pecking at the top of his skull, kicking at him and batting him with both wings and claws. I opened the conservatory door and the adult flew away, but the baby pigeon was stunned and unsteady and stayed around. You can see from the picture the slight damage inflicted on his crown by the adult and there were feathers plucked out on the ground.


I have googled and found other mentions of this behaviour but as yet no explanation. Does the adult know something is wrong with this little one and that he will not survive the scrutiny of passing Sparrowhawks and other predators? Is the adult trying to "toughen him up" to make more effort towards his own survival? Is the adult his parent or a rival? I'd love to know the answers, but know that any human effort to intervene might well be attempting to "play God" in a situation I do not understand. Watch this space. As of tonight, the squab was feeding again, albeit with movements that suggest he is not completely thriving yet, in the presence of an adult Woodie who ignored him completely this time and flew off, leaving him in peace to shelter for the night under my berberis near the pergola.


Another behaviour that has been going on for the last month or so is the constant unrelenting harassment of my resident pair of Magpies by my two Collared Doves, who look as if butter wouldn't melt in their dainty mouths! Every time one of the Magpies appears, it is chased all over the garden and then away into the surrounding trees by one or both of the Doves. They simply won't let it lie! The Magpies never seem to retaliate (in spite of their reputation). They try all they can simply to outfly or outsmart the Doves, splitting up so while the Collared Dove chases one through the undergrowth trying to land on its back or head, the other can feed for a few snatched moments undisturbed. No doubt at all, the Dove has her reasons, maybe to keep the Magpies at bay from taking her own chicks. Attack is the best form of defence, and all that! The Collared Dove has thrived since it was first introduced to our shores in the late 1950s. Its numbers and dominance are always on the up and up, defying trends of decline in many other of our garden species. So the Magpie may not be able to look forward to a quiet life on this side of the Parousia!

Sparrowhawks have yellow feet

Sparrowhawks have yellow feet,
The Woodpigeon’s are pink,
And one can take the other down
Quicker than it can think.
The Hawk sat under my apple tree,
Staining the white snow red,
Spreading a grey down carpet
Where her hungry beak had fed.

The Blackbird’s bill is golden,
The Dunnock's legs are red;
Their colour coded miracles
Fill winter’s empty head
With stab and thrill and beat- boxing
With dip and dodge and dance,
With scolding or with shyness,
And the seizure of each chance.

The Fieldfare, foreign-feathered,
Comes to peck the apple core,
While the Goldcrest and the Bullfinch
Show the shades that God once saw
When He finished the creation,
And stood back, enjoying all
Just the way that He’d intended
From the colour to the call.

He didn’t forget the sparrow,
Totting up its plumage count,
And remarking how the chocolate
And the coffee barbs stood out;
How the chirrup and the chatter
Sang a twitter feed of worth
From the vacuum close of chaos
To the spark that lit the earth.

JB 12th Jan 2010