My eye's caught by a flurry of movement outside the kitchen door. It's a pair of blackbirds. They're too involved in their battle to notice a pair of humans watching them not a yard away.
The fight is intense. They become a whirling spiral of black feathers, rising high in the air. They return to land to start again.
And the cause of all this activity? Across the gap in the nearby wall hops a female blackbird. She seems utterly nonchalant, seeking grubs to fill her tum. But, I suspect, until she decides which one she prefers these battles will continue. The feathers will continue to fly.
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