I'm much more aware now of all the birds in our garden. Two in particular loom large, partly because they make a lot of noise and partly because, well, they're large. They started to assemble a precarious pile of twigs just below our bedroom window but I think were put off by my regular opening and closing of it, so they moved into a nearby shrub. When I referred to their noise, it wasn’t just that repetitive coo-ing, but the clattering as an unwieldy bird emerges. It alights a few yards away on the path where it walks awkwardly, as if in the wrong element, managing to look both aimless and purposeful at the same time. Then there’s two of them. After a moment, they’re up on a branch, making a fuss. I’ve written before about anthropomorphism. I can’t help but see this pair in terms of ourselves, with their behaviour so reminiscent of our own. And similarly all those other birds who live and have their being in the same place as we do – their various actions and re