Country Diary: Gloucestershire

The birdsong of spring, whether or not birds know that global warming is making things earlier, continues to be a delight. As I rode up Chavenage Lane earlier this week a pair of mallards stood before me on the road. Not a natural habitat for a duck, you may feel, and there are no large stretches of water hereabouts. But there has been so much surface water about recently, on farmland and on the lanes, that they probably had a base in a short-term pond close by. They looked at me cautiously as I approached, the handsome glossy green male and his dun brown mate, and flew off with loud squawks.

Further up the lane, the insistent drumming of a woodpecker came from high in the mature trees to the left of the lane and, since there is no leaf cover, I thought I might see the bird at work. The drumming continued but, despite a careful scrutiny which narrowed the search area down to one tree and a fork about 90ft above ground level, I never saw the bird.

The most glorious birdsong of early spring, that of the skylark, is back to entertain us on Stinchcombe Hill. High above us the larks sing as they establish their territorial rights over the patches of rough grass which will hold well concealed but very vulnerable nests. The rooks are refurbishing their nests in trees which hang right over the road, and their build of last year seems to have had admirable durability since a little low-level tinkering with twigs appears to be all most of them need at this particular site.

On the return from Cricklade by a quiet lane yesterday afternoon, a most splendid buzzard took off from the hedge top. We were so close that I could see the fretted primaries on the edges of his wings that give stability as those huge wings provide lift for the prolonged circling that makes the buzzard so dramatic in the air.