tweeting

they arrived in april one scooting about the chimney pots one singing loud enough from the very top of marshall street baths to charm all of soho zooming from one peak to another to show off that red tail and black blackness so even a bird buffoon like me could find it in a desperately useless 30p from the library sale field guide to huge corring and blimeying and well did you evering and they're rarer than golden eagles and ospreys you know just imagine golden eagles bouncing about your roof babbling. now every morning around ten and every evening just as the light is fading there's singing from the highest spots around and bugs picked off of walls with the best of humming bird hovering and us leaning out of bedroom windows beaming. soon they're singing loud as anything in the middle of the night no dawn chorus this but west end carousing all through till the middle of may and everything goes quiet my greedy heart sinking at the thought of them gone leaving us to the pigeons and seagulls. finally an empty week fills with the briefest hint of a something out the bathroom window and the little treasure is back but songless and solo and shy busy as a black and red bee almost impossible to spot with no mad tweeting to guide us and now right now there's cheeping somewhere on our roof baby bird cheeping and both the grown ups are zooming about like mad things morning and evening mouths full of flyey treats. we're thrilled




blossom dearie - try your wings




ps

they're black redstarts.

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