On one of those very wet days we have had recently, I watched a small white shelled garden snail trailing down the streaming window, heading purposefully towards the bird feeder that is attached there.
I have read that snails enjoy bird food as much as birds do, but I don’t see them on dry days, when, I suppose they stay at ground level, busy mopping up the spills.
It raises several questions: why is it only this one that heads for the window and never the other, larger varieties, why does it only do it when it is wet and how do they know the food is there?
Does bird food smell stronger when it’s wet and how do snails smell it when they have no visible noses?
I did my usual search
I discovered that on the underside of these odd little creatures, which is the bit that was immediately obvious from my side of the window, is a tail, a foot and lower tentacles.
On its upper side there is a mouth, upper tentacles on which are the eyes, its head and its shell. These upper tentacles, I then discovered, are used for orientation and can detect scents – but then that raises another question. Presumably the bird food smells stronger when it’s wet but it must be a pretty strong smell to attract this little thing from its cosy home amongst the leaves and roots of my cherished plants to make it want to climb half way up several feet of rough brick wall, find the window, then slither half way across it to the feeder.
It’s just one more of those wonders of nature that never fail to absorb me for – well, not quite hours in this case, but quite a long time.
One thing leads to another.
Do birds have a sense of smell? From the same source of information, I found that they do have little nostrily things on their beaks, called nares, but the scientists say that these aren’t very helpful and they are still trying to find the answer.
It’s a depressing fact that the UK is ranked 189 out of 240 countries in its biodiversity.
This is due mainly to the industrial and agricultural revolution during the 19th century. (Thanks Google for telling me that – happy new year to you too!)
The thing is, we didn’t know what damage it was going to do in the future.
Who would have guessed when the first iron was triumphantly produced, that the chimneys of those very fires used in its manufacture would have such far reaching effects centuries later?
And where would we be today if someone hadn’t had the bright idea of producing railway lines and engines from this wonderful material to rush it to all corners of the country?
From all that came so much of what we depend on today, from the bridges that cross roads and rivers to almost everything in our homes, and aeroplanes that take us to far away places – there is not much that doesn’t depend on even a fragment of this metal in its making.
In the same way, more recently, who could have imagined the damage that plastic would do when it first appeared? It’s sad but true that so much of what we do today can cause unknown havoc tomorrow.
We are now back peddling furiously, re-planting trees and native hedgerows, creating more areas of salt marsh and restoring damaged peat lands.
We are doing our best to decrease our use of fossil fuels, and many of us nowadays, who have gardens, think about making it as nature friendly as possible.
And, of course, we have David Attenborough who makes us so aware of all this.
Lecture over – sorry.
I’m not sure what got me going on that, except perhaps I started this article the Friday after all those floods, which we are told, are mostly due to climate change.
I looked back on my notes for this time last year, and, guess what? I was moaning about the amount of rain we were having then!
I have had several visits from little flocks of long tailed tits.
They are such delightful little birds.
They come in little groups of about a dozen at a time, don’t stay long and disappear as quickly as they arrive.
I’ve discovered two wonderful collective nouns for these little fluffy bundles from way back, ‘bum barrels’ and ‘poke pudding’. Those are as good as a charm of goldfinches, though perhaps less complimentary.
I have both a robin and a blackbird regularly feeding from the window feeder (apart from the snail.) I’m sure the Robin is Fraser and he seems to have a mate, and the blackbird I have called Pavarotti as a nod in the direction of our much loved and long ago deceased Mr Bocelli and wife,
Some of you may remember me going on about them several years ago. Pavarotti is recognised by several distinct brown feathers on one wing and although I haven’t heard him sing yet, I’m sure he has a splendid voice.
He and Fraser seem to take it in turns to feed, one sitting on a nearby rail until the feeder is vacated, but I have witnessed a couple of occasions when Fraser has grown
impatient and tried to muscle in at the same time.
This usually ends in a bit of a one sided war. Pavarotti, being the larger, usually seems to be the victor.
Recently, there have been five blackbirds around the lawn at the same time. When there were only one or two around following Pavarotti I thought they could be his last year’s offspring but five seems a bit much.