Corona Wildlife Diary: Day Seventy-six

The uplifting role that wildlife plays in our lives becomes more vital than ever. So, for my own sanity as much as anything, I’m going to keep a daily diary of what I find around my garden.  Post your pictures on the ‘Sussex Wildlife Trust Nature Table’ page.

Day Seventy-six

During yesterday's Back garden Bird Race my garden was invaded by a family of Great Tits. At first it was charming to watch their exploits. The young Great Tits are just taking their first clumsy flights. One fledgling crashed into the bird feeder (now stuffed with two shaved heads worth of hair) and sat there for an hour begging to be fed. 

Another brazenly sat on a branch and called and called. And called. For the entire hour. 

It was actually really grating and annoying. And after 55 minutes it became real fingernails-down-the-blackboard level annoying.

Just for the record; I’ve always been a bit wary of Great Tit. Unlike all the other familiar, friendly faces on my back garden bird table there’s just something about the Great Tit that’s always made me suspicious. Perhaps it’s my mistrust of uniforms. The Great Tit’s smart plumage with a collar, black tie and a glossy black cap makes them look too official, too authoritative. And that bright yellow chest? Eww! – it’s too garish for the garden.

(Photo by Arthur Hoare)

Their behaviour isn’t exactly endearing either. Great Tits are the bullies on the bird table. They’ll aggressively assert their authority and violently peck at other birds as they plunder the peanuts. When house-hunting if a Great Tit can’t find a suitable hole to nest in it’ll simply evict a Blue Tit and move in.

Their dominance is also heard in spring when their repetitive two note song, “Tea-cher! Tea-cher! Tea-cher! rings out through our woodlands. Listen to it (here)

It was this “Tea-cher!” that taught me my first lesson in bird song identification; an easily recognisable two-note war cry used to proclaim the tit’s territory. But I was soon to learn that everything was not how it seemed. Each male Great Tit actually has an average of four different songs which can be sung at 3 different tempos.

This is also a Great Tit (here)

And (here)

And (here)

And so is this (here)

This varied repertoire is a sly 'Beau Geste' style trick employed to fool other Great Tits into thinking that a woodland is more crowded than it really is. The birds who know the most tunes secure larger territories and breed more successfully. And it’s a trick that fools me each year too; if I don’t recognise a bird call in the woods it’s always a Great Tit.

(Photo by Roger Wilmshurst)

Through aggression and deceit the birds have been successful in establishing an empire that spreads from England to China. And it’s from the far flung corners of this empire that we’ve recently received reports of some rather worrying behaviour.

From Finland came news of a group of Great Tits changing their vegan diet of seeds and nuts to something much more meaty; other birds. In Hungary scientists made the chilling discovery of a population of Great Tits which have developed a taste for the brains of hibernating bats. Sure, these are isolated incidents at the moment but with human society weakened by the ravages of a pandemic and an army of Great Tits acquiring a taste for blood and brains is it unreasonable to hypothesise a post-Covid future where humans are at the mercy of plagues of zombie Great Tits hell-bent on feasting on our brains?

I've been stuck in this cul-de-sac for 76 days now. You'd let me know if I start to sound a bit paranoid, right?