The admirable Tom Nisbet writes a letter: "I am out of touch nowadays, haven't seen a cow for ages, indeed. The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea. Their butteries are low, you see. I still have birds and bees, well some. And this year a blackbird built a nest far into a tunnel between the Montana and the garden wall, fearlessly attacked any feathered intruders, but for all her work raised only one defective youngster which fluttered about on the ground until it was bet and et. Allow me:
Sick Chick
It was only a backward blackbird,
He could neither fly nor walk,
Fair game for the murdering magpie,
Fair game for the hovering hawk.
Weep not for the backward blackbird,
For it is Nature's writ,
The weak can't live among the wild,
Only the fightin' fit.
But spare a thought for the human sort,
The handicapped, the lame;
There may be a lovely picture
Within a fragile frame."
Indeed, as Tom Nisbet indicates, a garden can be a dangerous place for nesting birds, especially, perhaps, a well-walled enclosure with shrubs, under which the attackers can hide. A roll of chicken-wire underneath, helps. Blackbirds' nests appear to be the softest mark for marauding cats. One pair is known to have given up or gone away after the third nest built was clawed down. Wrens seem to be able to winkle into odd safe holes and corners, not easily accessible to the enemy.
The dog should be a deterrent, but cats will wait until the door shuts on them. And anyway have their getaway. That poet wrote: "A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot." It's also a deadly place for the friendly bird, daring to peck at food that has fallen within cat-reach. There is not a lot you can do in the face of what our poet calls "Nature's writ".