i know they're birds so they can fly but sometimes they are amazing. not just larger predators but the little mundane ones like a pair of goldfinch at speed darting ahead of the wind, small titmice tossed seemingly out of control by a gust but turning and jinking through twigs into cover.
even the snow is getting thrown back upwards as it falls on these swirling winds. the great tits, robins, dunnocks, pigeons, doves, blackbird and a wren all cock-eyed at each other in a few more sheltered square metres of grass, foraging seeds blown from the table rather than go upwards into the bitter breezes.
high above, gulls beat and fight through snow and grey light, in from the coast, heading east. across the park jackdaw aerobatics, impressing one another and me showing skill and ability, jinking and spinning and diving around and through wind-whipped Lombardy poplars; one alone, timing his swoop, grabbing from the suet table while smaller birds scatter.
starling in their own world, bicker, stop, raid, a twist of eye and beak to a passing shadow, snap and thrill of a dozen wings, gone. all the birds, hop, twirl, twist, gone into hedge or tree depth, what did they see?
and now as the snow falls more heavily and wind quiets, a lone blackbird wary-eyed out from under the bushes back to the seeds and leaf tossing, blackcap follows from cover to the rosebush, a wren hops. she hadn't moved far, just dodged inches into a clump of weed grass; small, hidden, clever. dunnock too, she has the worm a blackbird had dropped at the scattering.
collared doves, a pair, appear with a flutter in the bare tree just higher than the hedge, deciding, then dropping down. robin dives at blackcap, great tits take that opportunity to quickly steal and as the snow stops and sun lights up the garden, long tailed tits seek insects in the ivy.