Day Of The Corvids

25th December and I'm working.  It's only a brief interlude before the merriment and over-indulgence begins, but it's an interesting time.  I have to drive up the A303 which is normally busy with a constant roar of cars in both directions.  Today there are few cars and there's an unusual quiet as I drive.  It is the day of the corvids.  Crows, magpies and jackdaws all throng the tarmac, picking up bits of carrion and other assorted treats - I suppose it's their Christmas dinner. I see two buzzards perched on trees beside the road, again a sight normally reserved for quieter places.  Today the humans are all in their little brick dwellings stuffing themselves silly and the corvids have reclaimed the roads for themselves.

I like the corvid family.  They are dustmen in black feathers; wonderful creatures who clear up the roadkill that we create and make rather a lush living off it too.  We feed our local jackdaws.  I'm sure the neighbours aren't delighted with us and would be happier if we restricted our magnanimity to blue tits and robins, but jackdaws have cahunes, character and make us laugh.  They will happily clear up crusts and anything else we put out for them, but seem troubled by the pink suet pellets; perhaps they're too Barbie for such iridescent macho-ness.

While we were driving back from Essex late on Sunday night a barn owl swooped low over the road.  Kim had to slam the brakes on to give the bird time to gain enough height to avoid hitting the car.  It was a magnificent creature, white and much larger than the barn owl I had met at an owl talk, whose wings where primly folded.

There seems to be a hierarchy of bird road sense.  Crows seem to have distance judgement and even driver-psychoticness nailed, while magpies are either more daring, more prone to play 'chicken' or less smart.  At the other end of the spectrum from crows are game birds, led most foolishly by the pheasant.  I have seem pheasants standing by the roadside, rocking back and forth on their legs in indecision, only to launch themselves as a car draws level with them.  Perhaps they prefer a quick roadside death to the shoot, who knows?

The experiences of having to brake for the barn owl, coupled with having to slow down for lots of magpies, who flew off at the last possible moment from their mid-road repast made me realise that it doesn't take long for nature to reclaim what is hers from us noisy, polluting humans.  That was rather reassuring.