The black birds of spring

I was gardening on Sunday, pulling out ivy, planting cowslips in pretty spring weather, warm sunshine, daffodils and pending blossoms etc etc. Ah the gentle Spring!

A blackbird joined me, tilting through bare-branched hawthorns to spy on my work. Dropping to the ground beside me he gave me ample time to admire his sleek black body and startling yellow beak and eyes. I could have stroked him he was so close. Ignoring me, he speared a fat long worm and pulled it from its dark earth. It was almost as long as he was and a centimetre round at least.

The muscular creature coiled and thrashed around him. If my bird was a fisherman sailing the seven seas he would need unbreakable nylon line and two men to haul this eel in.

The blackbird caught my eye, seemed to sense my doubt in his ability to land this fish. With a flourish, he dropped the worm to the ground and moved his head so fast that I could not see his beak. Snip, snip!

Then like a matador he jumped back waiting for the crowds to cheer him. The worm lay in three pieces before him. The head and tail still writhing, its middle section surprised into stillness. He ate this piece first, then the head and finally the tail section which he ate with great relish as though he had kept the best to last.

Then having shared his worm killing technique with me he flew up to a low branch of the hawthorn and poured out his liquid songs of innocence and joy that flowed and sparkled through this burgeoning day.

New from Enchanted England - Our Blackbird Collection is available here.