AMONGST THE RUINS of the frozen and desiccated herb garden this morning I spied four familiar goldfinches with an obvious penchant for haute cuisine pecking merrily about. This is of course the so-called ‘gang of four’, as the tabloid press has dubbed them. Four finches that, in these times of austerity, have not opted to fly south to Africa for the winter, like those preening birds of paradise, but have decided to stay and tough it out with the proletariat tits and sparrows.
Admirable behaviour like this is rarely seen in the bird world; from the notorious underhanded behaviour of those liberal cuckoos to the lumbering greed of the more conservative waddling fowl – all of these and many other feathery followers flock to the balmy post-equatorial climbs – only to return when the good times are great the following spring. Is there, I wonder, a move to place sanctions upon deserting/returning birds; seed-exiles, if you will; should we, the hapless dupes who spread seed throughout the land indiscriminately, opt for a reform of bird feeding policies? Perhaps giving lower rations to non-dom avians and supplementing fat-ball credits for those doughty few who remain our yearlong garden companions?
After all, what is an English garden without the aesthetic flurry of activity provided by these airborne performers? Those who provide the most entertainment should be given the most reward.
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