13
During this hard weather, small ragged flocks of field-
fares flew over the house to the other side of our road
where, at the end of the gardens, is a row of mature holly
trees. A friend had watched them feeding on the berries
until the trees were stripped clean. Then off they went.
Except one.
He stayed in her garden, gorging himself on a few wilted
apples and fighting off the various birds which had
thought to make her garden their own. With the thaw and
the end of the apples he departed and the normal order
of things was re-established.
More snow fell and in early January I put out the rest of
the apples, scattering them in different parts of the
garden, but our old bird was more than equal to the task.