My back yard has been turned into a war zone, with regular bombing raids you could set your watch by. Every morning, as soon as it becomes light, they are up there - the spy planes. Circling, soaring, spreading out over the town, keeping it all under surveillance.
Any food scrap - a slice of stale bread, fat scraps, left-over catfood - anything at all put out for the 'local' birds (anything bigger than a brown cardboard cat biscuit) attracts their attention, the signal goes out and the squadrons move in. The backyard temporarily turns into a scene from a Hitchcock movie, there's screeching and squawking, lots of 'mine, mine, mine' and within seconds all food forms of vaguely animal origin (and a few vegetable ones as well) have been stripped from the area.
Seagulls.
They've taken to sitting on the roofs of the surrounding houses, focussed on my backyard. (All they need are machine guns and spot-lights.) They have even displaced the crows who used to sit up there waiting for their cat-biscuit breakfast every morning. And their bring their friends, families, neighbours, henchbirds, ....... so many of them, perched, watching, waiting.
It's spooky.
The crows hate being caught sitting when the squadron arrives. If the crows come down to dine at all they depart when the first reconnaisence spies spin into view. That is not to say that crows are wimps - we've seen crows attacking seagulls in the air (raptors too but that is a different story). Even outnumbered dozens to one, and not looking so nimble on the wing as the sea birds, the crows are apparently scary enough in flight to scatter the raiders in the air. It never saves the food though. Raiders come in a variety of sizes; a different squadron will dive in and raid if some are being distracted in the air.
If you have followed my blog you'll already know I'm no fan of crows, but even I could feel sorry for crows (and a small degree of admiration for their tenacity in the air), in the face of such over-whelming and superior airbourne warfare.
I must remind F and Mr B to put food scraps out only in the afternoons. The spy planes only seem to be active in the mornings. We don't want to be encouraging them - their squadrons really could carry off a cat.....
Any food scrap - a slice of stale bread, fat scraps, left-over catfood - anything at all put out for the 'local' birds (anything bigger than a brown cardboard cat biscuit) attracts their attention, the signal goes out and the squadrons move in. The backyard temporarily turns into a scene from a Hitchcock movie, there's screeching and squawking, lots of 'mine, mine, mine' and within seconds all food forms of vaguely animal origin (and a few vegetable ones as well) have been stripped from the area.
Seagulls.
They've taken to sitting on the roofs of the surrounding houses, focussed on my backyard. (All they need are machine guns and spot-lights.) They have even displaced the crows who used to sit up there waiting for their cat-biscuit breakfast every morning. And their bring their friends, families, neighbours, henchbirds, ....... so many of them, perched, watching, waiting.
It's spooky.
The crows hate being caught sitting when the squadron arrives. If the crows come down to dine at all they depart when the first reconnaisence spies spin into view. That is not to say that crows are wimps - we've seen crows attacking seagulls in the air (raptors too but that is a different story). Even outnumbered dozens to one, and not looking so nimble on the wing as the sea birds, the crows are apparently scary enough in flight to scatter the raiders in the air. It never saves the food though. Raiders come in a variety of sizes; a different squadron will dive in and raid if some are being distracted in the air.
If you have followed my blog you'll already know I'm no fan of crows, but even I could feel sorry for crows (and a small degree of admiration for their tenacity in the air), in the face of such over-whelming and superior airbourne warfare.
I must remind F and Mr B to put food scraps out only in the afternoons. The spy planes only seem to be active in the mornings. We don't want to be encouraging them - their squadrons really could carry off a cat.....
I got to know the warden of a refuge in the mountains near my house in France - she had a lovely sweet kitten. But when we returned last season it was no longer there... When I asked she pointed to the sky -'les aigles, ils l'ont eue' - the eagles, they got her... You could try a raptor decoy; that might deter them coming to your balcony
ReplyDeleteGood grief - what's that saying about truths spoken in jest? We know eagles have to eat too, but kittens!! Thank goodness humans are programmed to feel protective about sweet kittens and you all went 'awwww nooooo' when you heard what the eagle had done.
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