The Colours of Spring

Above the sea of yellow created by this year's prolific flowering of the gorse, the small birds are finding places to sing - like....

....this song thrush which could, if it wished, have used a much higher tree to weave its wonderful song but chose to be surrounded by flowers, or....

....this male yellowhammer which, perhaps because he would have been so much less conspicuous in the gorse, chose a branch near the top of a willow tree.

Meanwhile, the bluebells in the woods are reminding us that they come in several colour variations, including pinky-bluebells and....

....whitebells, of which there seem to be many more this year.

Other old friends are reappearing. like cuckoo flower (or lady's smock) with its delicate colour shades, and....

....campion, which will continue to flower all through the summer. It's one of my favourite flowers because I can remember enjoying making sketches of it in art classes at my prep school.

The one thing missing from this feast of early spring life is the insects. In the last few days I've seen a white butterfly and a peacock, and a few large bumblebees. Perhaps this paucity of insects is easily explained by blaming the weather - the midday temperature has been struggling to rise above 10C, and it has been breezy - but I do wonder....

Tsuro

A rabbit has moved in with us. It's not a very big rabbit, perhaps a few weeks old, but it seems very confident in the way it has taken over the garden. We bump into it occasionally and, although it runs away, it doesn't go far.

Yesterday I spent some time sitting in the sunshine watching it. Happily, at the moment its main food seems to be grass, and it's welcome to as much of that as it wants. It has yet to have a go at any of the other plants - as far as we can see - so I'm not sure how we're going to react if we find it has eaten our vegetables or a rather precious ornamental plant.

I've decided to call it Tsuro, which means rabbit in Shona, one of the languages of what is now Zimbabwe. When we were in that country - between 1967 and 1970, when it was called Rhodesia - I used to....

....run the school's farm club. Our most ambitious project was to rear rabbits for use in the school's kitchen, and to sell to a local butcher. The scheme went horribly wrong, so we lost a fair amount of money, but I came away with the nickname Tsuro, which I rather liked. What I didn't miss was the killing and dressing of as many as fifty rabbits each Wednesday afternoon.

I learned a great deal from the rabbit fiasco. I'm just sorry that the 'business' involved the murder of so many rather pretty little animals.

I have other good reasons for feeling rather affectionate towards rabbits, of which more anon.

Another First

It doesn't matter hugely that these are the first bluebells of the 2026 spring except if one allows oneself to wonder whether these might be one's last 'first bluebells of spring', at which point they suddenly become rather more important and more worthy of a moment or two's close attention.

I feel so fortunate to be able to have these deep thoughts as I wander the footpaths and tracks around this small village, and to be able to notice the changes as they happen. For example, the rabbits are back in the two extensive pasture fields just above our house, with one or two being visible at any time of day. This rabbit has taken possession of the warren which, last summer, was crowded with rabbits of all ages. It seemed unworried when I approached. Perhaps it is that the buzzards, through a lack of rabbits a month or so ago, have disappeared having, hopefully, found enough rabbit prey elsewhere to raise a family.

While many of the small bird species have almost disappeared from the garden feeders, having much more important things to do in the woods, the blackbirds are back, the males quarrelling while the females gorge on the fat cakes we put out for them. It's evident that they now have young to feed - and if a blackbird is to feed its young it needs a territory which is worth singing about, even if the song is, at times, rather less tuneful than the local song thrush's.

Not that the weather is helping anyone. One minute we're enjoying warm sunshine, the next we're savouring a sharp hailstorm; and today's temperature, if it reaches the giddy heights of yesterday's midday - 7C - is forecast, as the wind goes round into the north, to drop tonight, perhaps below 2C. We might even have a sharp ground frost - in May!

Harry

The last two evenings, both times at around 7pm, Harry the sparrowhawk has been on his favourite perch on the balustrade of the ramp that leads down from the house to the garden. From it, he has a good view of the back garden and of the comings-and-goings of the small birds that come to our feeders.

I'm not sure how well Harry fares out of our garden as I've only found two small piles of feathers on the ground around the ramp.  This may explain why we've been seeing much less of him recently. He's been reported by neighbours as visiting their gardens as well, and one told us that she saw him with a female.

This must be a fairly tough time for him. The small birds are coming into the garden much less at the moment, presumably because they're too involved in pairing up and nest-building, though only the blackbirds seem to have young as they're flying off with beak-fulls of food. The one time the small birds are busy at our feeders is the early evening, the very time when Harry's been visiting. 

We're a bit surprised and disappointed that we haven't seen the female but it may be that she has a quite separate hunting area.

Return of the Rain

All good things must come to an end so, sadly, we've lost the brilliant sunshine and warm temperatures of earlier in the week, replaced by the customary grey skies of these northern parts. However, the warmth has....

....done a wonderful job of speeding up the coming of spring. In our now two-year-old garden the very deliberate planting of insect- and bird-friendly plants, such as the early-flowering aubretia, has paid dividends though....

....we do have some worries. A couple of chaffinches have been behaving oddly, not flying off when we approached. This may have been that they were suffering from heat exhaustion but another grim possibility is that, despite trying to kept the feeders clean, we have an outbreak of the dreaded trichomonosis, a disease which particularly affects greenfinches and, to a lesser extent, chaffinches.

The cowslips have spread even further across the meadow down by the A9, and are obviously having a good year. The seem to come out shortly before the primroses, so are one of the bright flowers of early spring.

Then there are one or two wildflowers out which I associate with full summer, their arrival providing a glorious splash of colour. This very lonely common vetch seemed to glow on our walk yesterday, just as the rain was arriving.

Speckled Wood

Speckled Wood is the name we've given to a section of our frequently used route down to the village shops. We like it because, although it is a plantation, it's entirely of several species of deciduous trees, and it therefore has its own special populations, one of which is....

....the butterfly after which we named the wood - the speckled wood.

It's far from a gaudy butterfly like the peacock and red admiral, but we think it's very pretty. It's also rather special because it seems to be thriving so, when we saw this season's first ones in flight on Thursday, it wasn't the paltry one or two we're seeing of all the other species, but an extravagant dozen or more, all already very actively competing for mates.

We also like Speckled Wood for the other wildlife it offers. For example, it used to be one of the best places to see roe deer. So it seemed quite natural this morning to find this structure by the side of the path. It's about a foot across, and in many ways looks like an open nest - except it has a deep hole at the back of it. There are more of these structures close by.

I have no idea what built it but, if I were pushed, I might suggest it's about the right size for a rat.

The Hut Circle

I set off for the Drummuie hut circle this morning in stunning weather, with hardly a breath of wind and the sun gloriously warm. 

The insects were out in force, with peacock, orange-tipped, white and tortoiseshell butterflies much in evidence and....

....more tiger beetles than I have ever seen. My experience has been that if you see one, you're lucky; today I must have seen fifty.

The birds were celebrating the warmth with their songs, the most common bird up on the moorland now being the willow warblers with their beautiful, cascading refrain.

More of the summer flowers are beginning to appear. This lousewort is the first of its species to flower.

This is the hut circle. I sat for some time on its wall, looking out at the view and savouring the weather. I didn't see a soul and, were it not for the distant murmur of the traffic down the A9, humans might have disappeared from this planet.

The circle of stones is very clearly visible at the moment but, sadly....

....the first of this year's bracken is beginning to sprout, so in a few weeks this ancient and remarkably well-preserved dwelling will be buried again, not to reappear until the bracken has died back early next year.

The builders of these huts, some over 2,000 years old, chose superb sites for their houses. The Drummuie hut circle is exceptional in having wonderful views in almost every direction.

So I sat on the stone foundations of their home and wondered what those ancient people would have made of the frenetic world in which we, their descendants, choose to live.