Thu. Apr 15th, 2021
Jackdaw (Corvus monedula), calling.

With just enough of frost to crisp the pasture the heavy carts have been out and across the land, carrying their last loads for spreading; blue smoke has gone up into a morning mist from the heaps out of cleared hedges and lopped trees in the great park; farther off, the sun, strengthening, glistens on young corn; and now the cattle, in a long line, follow a labourer who bears a big fork full of hay into the field for a meal that will make a change for them from watery cold grass. Below the orchard spades are at work. This open weather helps the garden; you can trench well down and bring the under soil into light and air with so much of promise of full crops as can as yet be foreseen. Produce waits upon a spade.

A clump of beeches standing close together have grown tall as elms; so soon as the sun was well up a jackdaw came, perched on the topmost bough, and cried querulously for a mate for about an hour. He could be heard a long way off. Other birds came: a magpie out of a laurel grove that must have stood green for 100 years or more – their lower trunk is as thick as a man’s thigh; a chaffinch to the near hedge; a thrush to sing and break the hoarse sound from the jackdaw. But there he stayed. Different, far are the mating calls of the blackbird and the woodpecker – home intelligence of very early spring.

By admin