The nine o'clock raider

I've got a nice garden feeding station set up in my suburban garden. It consists of an assortment of sunflower heart feeders, a bird table and a hanging feeder that I use for providing mealworms to my feathered visitors.

The feeding station is situated close to two Acer trees that I planted over 15 years ago. One of the trees is tall and sprawling, the other I coppiced and is short and bushy. Both provide great cover for the birds that are attracted to the free food nearby.

Since early autumn, the feeders have been getting busier almost by the day. This month, a flock of up to twenty Goldfinches regularly visit. Occasionally, they pull in the odd Chaffinch and Bullfinch as well. Most notable has been the return of Coal Tits and Nuthatches to the garden feeders. These two species have been absent for a couple of years but have been putting in regular appearances. Additionally, a pair of Collared Doves has dropped in, and they clear up what drops from the feeders to the ground. Robins, House Sparrows, Woodpigeons, Dunnocks, Blue and Great Tits, Blackbirds, Starlings and Magpies make up the rest of the numbers.

The garden gets busy with avian traffic from first light, but tends to reach its peak at 9 am and 3 pm when the light fades to darkness. The rhythms of the bird life in my garden always intrigue me.

9 am is usually about thirty minutes into my working day at my home office, and it's that time of day that I am catching up on my emails and planning for a busy day ahead.

For the birds, it's time to get some breakfast and replenish all the energy they have used to survive the now cold and wet nights. I marvel at how such small birds manage to do this week in, week out.

Competition on the feeders is fierce. Goldfinches are constantly bickering and squabbling over the best perches. In between their battles, the Coal Tits dart in like little ninjas, picking off a single sunflower heart and then shooting off into my neighbour's leylandi hedge to stash their loot.

I enjoy the occasional eye break to watch the 9 am flock for a few minutes and then return to my work.

This morning, I was typing merrily away on my computer when I just glanced sideways out of the window as I paused to compose a sentence, and I saw two big yellowy/orange eyes staring up at me. In that brief moment - a millisecond, my brain identified the species that bore those eyes - Sparrowhawk!

I ever so quietly and slowly slid out of my chair and crawled to the wardrobe where my camera bag was. Carefully and as quickly as I could, I removed the bag and assembled my camera kit. I whispered a prayer under my breath that the hawk would stay put so I could get a photograph.

Then I slowly got to my feet and trained my lens through the double-glazed window (not the most optimal to take photos through). Fortunately, the bird of prey was still there. It was perched on top of my feeder pole and looked straight at me and did not flinch one bit. The hawk was looking every which way it could, trying to find something to catch. By the looks of things, every bird with any sense for about a quarter of a mile had fled or was sitting tight, hiding.  Obviously, the Sparrowhawks' ambush at the feeders had failed on this attempt. 

The hawk changed positions and perched in my tallest Acer tree. By examining its plumage, I could see that it was a male bird - they are smaller than the females and have a more blueish slate colour to their main plumage, and have red markings and stripes on their chest. Males specialise in smaller prey - just like Goldfinches. Whilst the females will target prey up to the size of a Woodpigeon.

Things usually go pretty quiet for a few hours once a Sparrowhawk visits the garden, so after a few minutes of scouring the branches of my tree for potential prey, the Sparrowhawk flew off, flying low over the fences towards my local wood across the street. I wasn't really surprised to see a Sparrowhawk in my garden, as throughout the year I have witnessed one swooping into the garden performing a low-level attack run like a Buccaneer bomber jet on several occasions.  The birds fly so quick and low over the hedges that the air whistles as they pass.

These birds are cunning creatures, and I am absolutely sure the Sparrowhawk had been keeping more than a close eye on the birds that my garden feeders attract, planning its attack. 

The hawk will keep the avian visitors on their toes this winter, and I expect to see him return again soon, as by the afternoon, the tantalising Goldfinch flock was back in force on the feeders. I imagined out there in the nearby woods, a pair of yellow eyes was focused on the flock and planning its next raid.