Vacant Premises

Yesterday I noticed N, the cat-next-door, sneaking up towards the beech tree, in which the bird box is fixed and, we know, blue tits were raising their family.

I went out to ensure that N had no plans to climb the tree, as in the past but he was busy eating something - something baldish, with legs. I checked the undergrowth but saw nothing unusual - but my mind questioned what, and how did he get it...perhaps there was a mouse's nest in the wall?

Today I checked a tuft of 'something' lying close to the tree and found this - see the collage in the extra - several pieces of tangled hair and moss that clearly had made up a nest. Some was on the ground, some caught in the branches of the tree, and no sign of life (or death). Obviously the nest had been scragged.

Then I saw the bird box. The entrance hole, so carefully measured when constructed, had been enlarged in such a random fashion that it was clear something had torn its way in to access the contents. I suspect a squirrel, taking revenge after its defeat by the peanut feeder, though have never before heard of them taking live chicks, especially from a bird box..

So, once again, a cloud of sadness hangs over the Flum garden. At least this time I cannot blame Hazel, bless him.

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