I'm sure I have mentioned before that my garden is the size of a postage stamp - thank God! - and that most of it is taken up by a patio - well, I'm not daft! - but I don't want you all thinking that I am unappreciative of nature at work. As part of my programme for extending my green credentials I feed the birds. It's true, unfortunately, that I have quite possibly the most boring-snoring set of birds anywhere consisting as it does of blackbirds, chaffinches, collar doves and - dammit - the biggest, fattest, most waddly set of 'flying pigs' anywhere, aka, wood pidgeons. I wage a never-ending war against the latter because they are forcing up the bird seed bill in excess of our household food bill! To be fair, I do have occasional visits from robins and tits but basically it is 'blackies', 'chaffies' and 'luvvie-dovies'.
Sitting in my semi-conservatory on constant guard duty against incoming pidgeons I have become a sort of latter-day Charles Darwin when he spent all that time holidaying working on the Galapagos Islands watching his finches. Studying the behavior of 'my' birds it is now quite clear that they are entirely driven by the four Fs. They are, in no order of priority: Fighting, Fucking, Fleeing and Feeding. So not too different from us humans, really! I'm wondering whether my very astute and learn-ed observations would gain me entry into the Royal Society and, with a bit of luck, a holiday in the Galapagos Islands.
Oh, take that as a 'no', shall I?