The birds in my garden are characters one and all.
Their personalities come flying through.
The all have their own bit of turf.
Carefully watch and you’ll soon know who’s who.

Magpies team up to bully more diminutive birds.
They chase and threaten but shy away from a full-blown brawl.
They seem keen to squabble with one other.
They keep this up from dawn to nightfall.

The upholstered wood pigeons are oblivious to the comings and goings.
They concentrate on their search of the lawn for unfound crumbs.
When finished they settle like hens on a nest,
With smiles on their beaks and a satiated feeling in their tums.

A clutch of baby robins learn their skills close to their nest.
They fly back and forth, fence to fence.
In just a few short weeks they can’t be distinguished from their parents,
and it’s time for the spread of their wings to commence.

The inquisitive robins remain, quality assuring my weeding and digging.
Checking I’ve done the job, he takes a position on a pole,
Safeguarding his territory and keen to be on guard,
While his Mrs Robin has a bathe in a dust bowl.

Blue bits flit from branch to branch hardly taking a breadth.
Keep moving - keep moving – keep moving is their reprise.
They’re keen not to be sitting targets,
Clearly concerned about their miniature size.

The sparrows are minesweeping among the hostas under the feeder.
A squirrel runs across the lawn and the assembled avians scatter.
Like dealers and their clients when a police car skids to a stop.
Hopping, jumping, multiple take-offs and incessant chatter.

All is turmoil for a minute or two before normality resumes.
A seagull drifts overhead charting the scene below.
It sees nothing remarkable and continues its trip.
The next interference will be when I next mow.