Posted by: kathandroger | June 15, 2013

French Birds.

To begin with it was Francoise Hardy, then Jeanne Moreau and of course Brigitte Bardot. But all that is long gone now and an ol fella’s birds now are mainly of the feathered variety. I have loved spotting them since a Scottish holiday with my school from inner London when I was aged ten. Instead of starling and sparras,  there were puffins and eagles, and lots of strange bird noises that were completely new to me. Here in France we have lots of different visitors, notably the cranes in early spring and now a local golden oriole is making his strange call in the woods around us. They all have different names of course, which caused me a bit of bother at dancing a few weeks ago when I tried to tell the Prof he was telling a white lie (monsonge) and instead called him a mesange (tit!) Much to the delight of the entirely French audience.

Anyway they are an awkward bunch these local tits. Having constructed a perfect tit box a couple of years ago they refuse to use it.

Instead they love the old terracotta ornament by the pool, which was bashed and repaired many years ago leaving an awkward shaped hole which just about admits Mr and Mrs Greatit. Each year  we have been here at least one brood has been successfully reared, whether the ornament is moved or not.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity to get the bird to turn up, but waited in vain. Took me back; some things never change!IMG_2234IMG_2233


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