A pigeon has taken up part-time residence in a nest in the wisteria over the front door. It does not spend much time there and there is no evidence of eggs or nestlings, though there was quite a fuss in the building of the nest - twigs and feathers scattered on the front doorstep. We see it sometimes sitting on the roof opposite before taking off for the wisteria into which it disappears.It just seems to be a convenient place to take a rest. As I cross the road to go the vegetable garden, I look a back at the house, and see the big patch of green beside and above the front door, and realize how the pigeon must see it as an attractive place to take refuge. It is not the first bird to nest there. For several years in succession blackbirds preceded it and produced young, which fledged interestingly enough. on two occasions, during the mens' final and Wimbledon.
I peer though the hedge of the house where a raucous parrot lives. Because of the warm weather its cage is in the garden. It has many human voices, often repeating the words "hullo" in a range of tones from falsetto to a husky contralto. Today, as it rattles at the bars of its cage, it is laughing, not a discrete intellectual laugh, rather a bawdy laugh, a spiteful laugh. On the lawn beside the cage is a crow, not in the least disturbed by the din, though it may well itself be its object. Eventually the crow flies off, nonchalantly and perhaps not entirely aware of the extent of its freedom.