Various pairs of jackdaws couple the nearby rooftops.
They frequently fly down to the bird table.
Jackdaws are the lighter members of the dark family of morbid corvids.
They’re comical, companionable, charlies. Make you chuckle.
“They does wot they likes….and they likes wot they do…..”
Illustration: Hazel Brown
Not much thaw going on this winter because not much frost and no snow (not down here in South Devon anyway)
But finally, this week, a couple of mornings with some frost icing the windows.
I’ve posted quite a few films of the rooks/jackdaws that fly into town every night.
This is what they were up to last night. Hundreds of them circling and dancing around, totally appropriating the sky above.
As if showing off. As if not wanting to go to bed.
And then, just as the evening turns dimpsy, they turn in, furiously rocketing into the alders, squawking and squabbling over who gets the best branch to sleep on.
This was one of the best ‘flyjoys’ I’ve witnessed here.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet
Last few nights I’ve been filming rooks (or are they jackdaws?!) flying in to the trees below my living room window.
Flying into their beds.
What a raucous rumpus they make.
I’ve filmed this pre-bedtime fly around they do many times.
But it never gets any less amazing.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet
Looking out across Moretonhampstead this evening you would have seen hundreds of young jackdaws ack acking over the rooftops.
A right old party was going on up there in the twilight.
The gyrations being danced into the sky were like starlings murmurating.
Except jackdaws like to accompany their marvelous moves with a roistering running commentary.
Like last year I’ve kicking off this new year with a film of birds in the silver birch outside my kitchen window.
There are rooks (and possibly jackdaws) magpies, collared doves, starlings (or possibly some kind of tit, Haze will know)
All these birds seem to use this silver birch as a town-centre ‘lookout post’ or communication hub. So many birds were hopping on and off today. Maybe the unseasonally warm weather we’re having is making them frisky.
Warm and wet. That’s how it’s been all winter long. But come rain come shine, be it rook be it dove, the silver birch gracefully receives everything that throws itself on, or at, her.
Words & Video: Ian Nisbet
In they fly, in dibs and drabs, in twos and threes, from fields afar.
Not to some ancient rookery – but to here, this back-end car park in the centre of town.
On warm dusky nights there can be up to 200, or more, of them wheeling and whiffling their way around in raucous rook ribaldry.
They seem to know when night has finally fallen; for there’s a sudden mad calamity to claim the best beds in the branches of the tallest beeches (well, in any tall tree that keeps them the highest above really)
I lay down each night with 200 sleeping rooks around my bed. Cosy!
Video and Words: Ian Nisbet