The gang

As spring has progressed, the bird life on the croft has become much more visible.

As I write I can hear or see blackbird, robin, linnet, chaffinch, swift, cuckoo, wheatear, sparrow and meadow pipit. And of course our ravens, whom we think have mated. We’ve named them Floki and Helga after two characters in the Vikings series.

Ravens are generally solitary birds, mating for life and hunting and living with their partner.

The juveniles, however, live in gangs until they eventually mate and pair off. And like most teenagers in large groups they’re loud, posturing, awkward, and a bit thuggish…

We have a gang of young ravens that visit the croft daily. They’re not interested in the seed or peanut feeders that we put out for the birds, but they love the fat balls..

The fat balls are in a metal mesh container with a lid on them, hung onto the wire stock fence that surrounds the croft. They’ve learned to peck at them until they break up enough to fall through the mesh, and then they swoop on them and scarf them down as quickly as they can, squabbling over especially tasty morsels.

One particular individual – husband calls him Dare Boy – is always the first to hop up and start the offensive. And once it starts, it’s fast. We’ve gone from five fat balls to zero in a matter of minutes. It’s like watching a gang of starved fifteen year olds with a pizza.

They can’t reach the very lowest fat ball in the container, but that’s no problem. They simply nip through the string that holds the container so that the whole thing lands on the grass and they can eat to their hearts content.

It’s become a daily amusement for us to watch one of them fly over, check out the food situation, return with the gang and casually line up on the croft fence ready for the off.

Who needs a television? 😊