For the first time ever, I have seen long-tailed tits in the flesh. Having seen them written about and pictured in bird books since childhood, and having remembered for a life-time the details, due to their shear appealing looks, they were instantly familiar when I saw them in the trees some way away. Then when they continued their chase closer to the house, they were recognisable without a doubt.
What a delight at the weekend, to see these birds in the garden; flipping through the birch trees and around the windows. Apparently doing acrobatics where-ever they are searching for insects to feed upon. Even the leading on the window panes give their tiny claws purchase, as they clung momentarily to spot the next fly in their vicinity or a place to hold onto on the window-frame to explore the crevices for insects and spiders, and thus enabling we humans to observe them in close-up in all their cuteness, from the other side of the window. As fluffy as a toy, and as lively as a cricket, they flit around with haste, speedily and as apparently haphazardly as Mayflies, as they hunt their insect prey.
As music has been written for the dance of the bumblebees, the wasp, and the Mayfly and the cricket, and to the crow, the magpie and blackbird, it is a real surprise that (at least to my knowledge) there has been no music written to these delightful little creatures.
With the joy of Spring in us all during this unseasonally warm early March, the tits had not a care in the world, and tiny as they are, they stole our attention from the proud cock pheasant and his harem of five. Even the pied-wagtail strutting apprehensively back and forth along the roof calling continuously, did not attract as much of our attention as did these little fluff-balls with tails. They could so easily be one of those small velour gonks given away usually with an appendage of an advertising tag longer than its body!
With a tail longer than the tit itself, these delicate creatures have quite a sophisticated community co-operation; whether huddling together in groups to keep warm in the cold, or the neighbours mucking-in to help feed one anothers' young, they are a lot more co-operative than many birds- or humans, come to think about it! Whether their appearance in the garden is a sign of their increasing numbers, or of their being driven from shrinking habitat around, I do not know; I just hope it is the former but fear the latter is probably more realistic.