Birding in September 2011

Earlier this week we heard robins singing again for the first time since early July. There were two of them, each side of the front garden one on the window feeder and the other on the eucalyptus. Our drive circle was the boundary between their two territories, and each was singing to tell the other not to cross it. You may have noticed that robins have been moulting over the past month, and when they are doing that they keep quiet, because without a full set of wing feathers, they are not so good at escaping predators, whether sparrow hawks or cats.

Now, though, we are about to see a furious territory battle erupt. The old males are reasserting claims to the territories they had in summer. But they are faced with a host of competitors. Many female robins take up their own territories in the autumn and they may find themselves in competition with their old partner.

(Breeding territories average 0.55 ha in size, about six would fit onto an average-sized football pitch while winter territories are around half of this).

There is also a flood of speckled young robins who want a territory too. So well into this month, we shall hear a chorus of song duels between these birds. The female robins are now singing just like the males. There will also be fights with beak and claw, some of them may well be fatal before the autumn.

The last summer months can be something of a fidgety time for any species of bird that regards our gardens and countryside purely as a temporary place of residence. Although we, ourselves, have a few remaining weeks to enjoy the fruits of high summer, for long-distance travellers such as swallows and house martins and a whole range of unobtrusive little warblers, it’s a time of careful preparation. It’s all down to that gentle but strengthening inner voice that tells them that the time is nigh to start checking out their return flights to Africa. Some of our summer migrants are already well on their south-bound way; the swifts and cuckoos being prime examples.

In the meantime our resident population of woodpigeons are still cooing and cuddling; they have not stopped since the spring and are about the only birds still nesting in our garden. Today saw them vigorously tearing stems out of our heather beds to create their flimsy nests much to the consternation of Julie who has tended and pruned them all year round.

D. H.