Bird feeders and bird tables were prominent in the gardens of my grandparents when I was young, and I’ve noticed that my parents and my husband’s parents have become more and more interested in the birds in their gardens since they retired.

Is bird feeding and watching a sign of getting older? Or is it just a sign of having the time to stop, sit, and watch the birds? 

I’m not retired, although I don’t work many hours a day and we have our own business so it’s not like I commute to work every day, I just walk from my bedroom to the office.

But the last two years I have been feeding the birds in my garden during the cold months and ensuring there is water for them in the warmer months.

I’ve made feeders from cups and saucers, mugs, and plates, some of which have been more successful than others. This year I have filled small coffee cups with fat balls and scattered seeds onto the bark covering the ground.

When I see a bird I’ve not noticed before I stop, watch, listen, observe their size in comparison with birds I know, jot down their colours and the shape of their beak, how they move and feed and then research until I find a match. I usually listen to their song too to be sure, but I have made mistakes. I thought a flock of siskins were visiting but it was snowing so visibility was poor. The following day they returned, and I saw the red on their heads, they were goldfinches, about twenty of them. They arrived in a chatty crowd, dominating the seeds on the lop of a tree stump, fighting off any sparrow that dared to steal a seed or two.

I love the chatter and bickering of the house sparrows as they dominate the hedges and perch on the swaying stalks of dried plants. They like to nest in the gaps between the stones which our house is built from and this year they have posher entrances as we start to smarten up and repair the back wall.

In amongst the sparrows feeding from the cups are the quieter blue tits who flit in, take a seed, and fly away to eat it or take polite turns to peck at a fat ball. Their blue feathers and yellow chests becoming brighter in the spring.

The blackcaps hang out in the apple tree, waiting for a seed to be dropped on the ground. They zip down, pick up the seed and dash back to a mossy branch to open the sunflower seed shell before watching for another opportunity.

Great tits are not as frequent and bide their time before flying in to eat as much as they can before leaving with stuffed stomachs.

There is a robin who likes to sit on the various logs in the garden, surveying, watching, and waiting in vain for us to dig and turn the earth– we are no dig, sorry robin, but there are still plenty of insects and worms to find in the bark. When I am in my writing hut the robin comes to visit, perching on a nearby log or standing on the decking and cocking his head as only a robin can do.

The magpies pretend they own the garden and strut their stuff along the mown pathways with puffed out chests, stuffing their faces with as many seeds or grubs as they can before flying off in a flash of black and white, their wings making a unique sound as they power through the air.

The blackbirds use their orange beaks to pick up and toss the small pieces of bark we have as a mulch on much of our garden, before they snatch up ants or grubs or worms who were hiding beneath. They find plenty to eat and sing their thanks from the apple tree when they’ve had their fill.

Bullfinches appear to fall from the apple tree rather than fly and then they to peck amongst the grass and bark finding a variety of tasty morsels.

Chaffinches with their bluey-grey caps, rusty red trousers and white wing bars ignore the bullying of the sparrows and eta their fair share of seeds knocked to the ground.

The bramlings, or mountain finch confused me for a while as they look like a female chaffinch but without the white bars, and often come to visit at the same time. They like to pick up the sunflower seeds from the ground and almost chew the edge until the seed is exposed. They are fascinating to watch. 

This year we have more collared doves visiting in their grey and white suits, fluttering in to land with a hum of their wings. They look huge as they walk amongst the sparrows, picking up seeds from the bark and grass.

One day a flock of starlings – or should I say a murmuration of starlings – stopped by and turned the garden into a busy railway station of social chitchat and rush. They were obviously excited about something as they bounced up and down on the bark and hurried across the grass enjoying the snack bar before a great flutter of wings announced their departure. 

A shy Goldcrest or two pop in during the warming months to eat insects from the grass and trees. So tiny and what beautiful colours.

A size contrast are the buzzards and kites who circle above the garden, their shadows sending the smaller birds into hiding and my eyes to watch them against the blue skies. The only hawk to swoop in and land on a perch tucking its wings in so neatly is the Merlin, the bird with a magical name.

The crows tend to stay in the tops of the trees but let us know they are watching and occasionally they venture in.

A beautiful visitor is the greater spotted woodpecker who hangs upside down on the trees to peer into the teacups and steal a morsel or it joins the blackbird in flinging bark around and finding the insects beneath. Occasionally it taps on the dead wood of our old plum trees, but I’ve never seen a hole.

The greenfinches come in pairs and adore the black sunflower seeds, eating as many as they can.

The redstarts arrive in March with their clicking chatter and flick of red. They nest in our roof, barn and store house and are not shy. We have had baby redstarts land on our arms. We love to watch the young ones learning to fly and eat. Sometimes they are very reluctant to hunt for themselves even when their parents show them a nest of ants. You can almost hear the sigh as the parent birds give in and serve the youngsters insects on a plate.

The house martins and swifts arrive a few weeks later, our summer visitors, fly in to let us know warm weather is here, and when they leave in the autumn it is with a warning of colder days to come. They dip and swoop eating on the wing, and our garden provides plenty of food for them now we are gardening with nature in mind and insects abound.

All these beautiful wild creatures choose to visit our garden, and I appreciate and enjoy their company and antics. They distract me from my writing and cheer me when I’m down.

Does the fact I’ve observed and identified these birds mean I am getting older? Or perhaps I am a twitcher?

Thinking back, I have always appreciated birds and birdsong even if I was unable to tell you what bird I was seeing.

I remember the first time I saw a goldcrest, at Carey camp in Dorset. I think I was ten and I swear my heart thumped faster.

And when I was a teenager, I rescued a baby pigeon, and nursed it to health. I even demonstrated flying by flapping my arms and jumping off a wall. I’m not sure it was impressed. I also moved my arm up and down when it sat on my wrist and its wings would open and flap. I was proud and a little sad the day it flew away.  

And with my name being Jenny and being the smallest in our house and maybe having the loudest voice, I earned the nickname Jenny Wren. I always get a thrill if I see a wren. Sadly, there have not been any in our garden, not yet.

I think I’ve always loved birdsong and now maybe I do have more time to watch, listen, and enjoy and appreciate birds in my garden.

And if that makes me old, then I’m proud to be old and will continue to age with my feathered friends close by.