Striking Gold

My personal quest has been silver, the silver of the (in modern terms) 'humble' roach but this past weekend we had an old conservatory removed exposing the original door to the daylight for the first time since we have lived here, and a proper clear view of the garden

When we have fed the birds, we stopped when I stopped working at home, the variety of species albeit in small numbers has been quite incredible and with some quite unbelievable visitors from time to time particularly when snow is on the ground for extended periods or frost sets in after Christmas causing wetland birds to venture closer from the adjoining marsh to the north-west

On Sunday The Dog was in the garden and heard a somewhat delicate thud. He looked-up to see a small bundle of fluff bounce down onto the lawn from the newly exposed glazing. He picked it up. I got the call from Parps, "Dad!, Dad! Come quick! See what Doggins has got!" Anticipating positive excitement rather than a gory accident I instinctively grabbed the camera and ran downstairs

Anyone familiar with the goldcrest will appreciate that they are Britain's smallest bird, tied with the much more rare firecrest of course, and those that have the benefit of seeing a head-on drawing or photograph will appreciate it's anthropomorphically sad expression as two thin dark lines extend down from it's mouth into a seriously proportioned upside-down smile, but this one took the biscuit. There it was with glorious hairdo, tattered feathers and the most miserable face one could ever imagine, more downcast that a toddler who'd lost a biscuit:



Struck gold

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