Squirrel + bird = ?

A strange and unsettling thing happened yesterday. I was walking through a park listening to music when, in the very gap between one song and the next, I heard a curious sound along the lines of 'chook...weeeeeeeeee'. Looking around for an unfamiliar wing, I stepped off the path and into the surrounding woodland. Some bluetits were hanging out on a branch in their upside down bluetit way, but I know what bluetits sound like, and it sure isn't 'chook...weeeeeeeeeeeee'. The only other animate creature I could see was a squirrel. I glared at him in a friendly sort of way and he glared back... and then I noticed that every time I heard the 'chook...weeeeeeeee' sound, his mouth moved. In short, here was a squirrel singing like a bird.

In the thirty-six hours since this happened, I have come up with some possible explanations.

1. This was a Mowgli-squirrel, raised by birds and thinking that he himself is a bird.

2. Hidden in the tree's highest branches was a ventriloquist bird, and I had been fooled by his squirrel dummy.

3. The bird (singing) and the squirrel (miming) were in league together to trick naive passers-by.

4. This actually was some new hybrid squirrel-bird species. Given that we already have flying squirrels, the development of singing squirrels seems not improbable.

5. I saw a bird trapped in a squirrel's body. A bit like the frog prince.

It's hard to know which of the above possibilities is the most concerning. All of them leave T.W.W. in a very difficult position. If squirrels become birds or birds squirrels, how are we to know who is friend and who foe? If squirrels are wingless birds, do we shun them or do we welcome them with open, um, wings? And how widespread is this squirrel-bird chaos? Did I witness an isolated incident or are there squirrds all over the place? T.W.W. requests that all its members keep on the alert and report any suspicious sightings immediately. Over and out.

avian collective

One of the sorrows of being an adult is that life no longer affords the opportunities found in childhood for collecting small animal-shaped objects along the lines of Sylvanians, puppies in my pocket, beanie babies, my little ponies etc. etc. Etc. (Although NB, t.w.w. NEVER liked my little ponies. They are lame.)

The RSBP bird badge collection is therefore a cause for unrestrained joy and celebration. For the RSPB has made not one, not two, not three, not four but CIRCA SEVENTY* different bird badges for your wearing and collecting pleasure. (We will draw a swift veil over its non-bird range, which features butterflies and red squirrels.) Above you will see a selection comprising (clockwise from top right): brent goose, lapwing, chaffich, pied wagtail, bluetit.

As if any further incentive were needed, each badge costs only one pound and of course all profits go to an extremely worthy cause.

(RSPB, if you are reading this and would like to donate the entire collection of your badges as a thank you for all this free advertising, please contact t.w.w. headquarters.)

* This is a total guess.

Good question.

(Some) news is good news

You might think from our last two posts that all is bad in the world of bird. Not so, for here is a story to warm your hearts and lift your spirits. This time, the battle is between pigeon and broadband connection, with pigeon Winston racing broadband to deliver four gigabytes of data between two company offices 80km apart. Winston won wings down, arriving at office number two with memory stick in beak after 2 hours and 7 minutes, at which point the data download via broadband was only 4% complete.

Which just goes to show that technology may be fine but birds are definitely best.

civil war

Terrible news. The winged kingdom is riven, Roundheads and Cavaliers style, by warring factions. Namely, birds v. bats. It's not good to take sides, and Things with Wings would like to state that it likes birds and bats entirely equally, but if we are going to point the finger of blame, it must surely be at the great tits who, unprovoked, are biting the heads off pipistrelle bats.

Picture the scene. A dark cave, somewhere in the Bukk Mountains of Hungary. A colony of hibernating pipistrelle bats, each weighing no more than 5 grams. As spring draws closer, the first bat wakes from his long sleep. He is cold, weak and exhausted and quite unable to fight off the great tit who SWOOPS into the cave and rips off his head. Just like that.

Greater detail comes from bat ecologist Bjorn Siemers, who notes that "the birds don't kill the bats before they start eating them but the bats eventually die when the birds peck open their brain case."

I will not post a picture of a headless pipistrelle because I do not wish to upset you. Having seen it myself is quite enough.

In defence of the great tits (never let it be said that we are not fair and even-handed in every way) food can get pretty scarce in the Hungarian winters.

Thanks to newscientist.com for bringing this to our attention. We will of course report any further BATtles in full.