I’m often woken by birds fighting. Flapping and squawking right outside my window regularly precedes my alarm clock.
As you’d imagine, they don’t wait until a reasonable hour to start their battles. They’re usually up as day-breaks, ready to sort their differences with some good ol’ fashioned fisty cuffs. Sadly, Sunday’s are no exception.
There isn’t just one culprit either. The woodpeckers, the pigeons, the wrens, the robins – all of them have scores to settle, and my cabin seems to be the agreed upon battle-ground.
The tough guys around town are the crows. They rule the skies. Even the big birds of prey like the buzzards and ospreys give them a wide berth.
At the bottom of the pecking order are the wood pigeons. They don’t seem like the smartest animals, and Dad tells me they have soft bills which bend when you touch them. I saw a robin chase a wood pigeon away from food once. That’s like a mouse chasing off a cat.
I’d never realised the world of birds was so full of conflict. Real life is more Angry Birds than Chicken Run.