Forget Netflix or Prime, I have a fascinating movie outside my back window at any time of the day. I keep filling the bird feeders with nuts, sunflower hearts and suet pellets, not just so that there is a varied menu for the birds, but for the show it provides!
As much as I want the birds to enjoy a continuous supply of food, I love watching them, exclaiming in delight when new comers appear. I have the Merlin app so can identify them by their sounds which is an added bonus. There is a certain kind of magic that only exists in the soft hush of a summerās evening when the sun is bowing out and the birds perform their final chorus before nightfall. Thatās when I sit in the breeze house at the bottom of our garden opposite the wood and find endless delight in the wonders of nature.
Perhaps the birds donāt know Iām there? Or maybe they do and just donāt care, which I find quite flattering! Thanks to my Merlin app I can hear blue tits gossiping in one of the sycamore trees. A robin is doing his best Shakespearean soliloquy on the fence close by. Somewhere under one of the ferns in my husbandās exotic tropical garden, a wren sounds as if sheās offering unsolicited advice at 90 miles an hour!
Just as Iām enjoying the ambience of this particular summerās evening along comes a squirrel, part ninja, part circus performer but really just a petty criminal! He stands, eyeing the bird feeder. He sizes it up like a jewel thief casing the joint. He has been there many times. He comes with the same plan, under the same delusion and with the same dogged determination! He knows the seeds are up there! He knows Iām outside watching him, but he doesnāt care!
His first attempt is to sprint up the pole, hang onto the edge of the of the squirrel repellant dome and, with sheer upper body strength, clamber on top. Itās mobile and he canāt get a grip so plummets down, landing unceremoniously close to a fat pigeon who takes flight.
Attempt number two sees him trying again, this time starting a bit further away to build up speed. That also fails but heās not giving up! He runs into the garden and climbs up the azalea bush reaching the top and finding the sturdiest branch. Itās directly opposite the feeder. He now has a strategy. Heās moving with intent, his eyes locked on the prize. Maybe he watched an episode of Mission:Impossible for squirrels! The branch sways, the leaves rustle and the robin stops his soliloquy to watch Tom Cruise of the squirrel world sail into the air and land on the feeder.
I wait with bated breath. His tail flicks. He calculates the wind speed. He judges the distance. He forgets about physics. And then he launches! All four paws are spread out like a flying squirrel. He arcs through the air in slow motion heading straight for the top of the squirrel repellent dome. For one glorious second he lands right on top. A direct hit before the dome wobbles, but still he hangs on for one brief moment. He doesnāt fall, exactly. Itās more like an undignified slide, belly down, paws scrabbling frantically and tail flailing like a malfunctioning rudder. To rub insult into the wound I have it on video. He will become the laughing stock of my family. I have a few minutes of viral-worthy footage while the squirrel has mild concussion. Unfortunately for him and his equally delusional yet determined mates, my husband has raised the pole making their challenge even harder!
The show is over for me for another day. The setting sun is hovering just above the horizon, the trees silhouetted against its golden glow. As the sun begins to sink, the sky deepens, becoming a bold, brilliant crimson that spills across the skyline like liquid fire. The red intensifies, deep and velvety, streaks of magenta and burnt orange create vivid layers of colour. The trees are slowly becoming darker outlines etched against this glowing tapestry. For a few fleeting moments my world is awash in the warmest, richest light. The sun slips away, leaving a smouldering sky, a quiet reverence for the closing of another day.
In those final moments, as the last light fades and the sky deepens into twilight, Iām reminded of the quiet, humbling glory of nature. Itās so vast, yet so effortless and profoundly moving. A glorious sunset means more to me than just the end of another day. Itās a fleeting masterpiece, a miracle of beauty that asks nothing in return. Itās a single moment of stillness and wonder, the only constant in this unpredictable, turbulent world. It restores my faith and gives me hope for the future.š
Jenny Burrell 