Bog Myrtle & Peat

Cuckoos seem to be reaching a fever pitch of activity, not only up on the Chayne but also around my house a few miles downhill. Feeding my partridges in the garden this morning, I saw two flying together right over the sheep sheds just twenty yards away, and it was interesting to see that the bird at the rear had its tail fanned out and was calling as he flew. I’d imagine that this is the cock bird, particularly since it was the one that came right up to me when I started calling back to it. He landed on the summit of the roof for a second, gowking furiously and giving a triple cu-CU-ck00 before paddling strangely off after his partner, who had landed on the finest and most delicate top of a douglas fir tree and was using her wings to keep balanced.

All the while, both birds were being assailed by pipits, who took it in turns to mob the passers-by like spitfires scrambled from their respective airfields. As soon as the cuckoos passed out of their territories, the next pipits would rise and carry on the pursuit so that the rolling assault was continuous. After they had gone further down the glen towards a stand of scrubby hawthorn trees, a second cock cuckoo moved sleekly on after them. He had been watching the pair from a boulder on the hillside above the house, and perhaps he was hoping for a go at the hen if the other cock dropped his guard. Although I tried to call this gooseberry, he was keeping his head down and hardly even acknowledged my efforts.

As for the pair of cuckoos, I’m told that the cock will distract the pipits so that the hen can sneak in and lay in their nest. I’ve never seen it happen, but I know a couple of ‘keepers who have and they said that the process is very quick and subtle. I’d love to find a cuckoo chick in a nest, but aside from the possibility that I’ll just stumble across one, I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to even begin looking.