The rush hour

Every day when I’m at my desk at dawn or dusk, I get to see the movement of lots of birds. Thrushes and Woodpigeons roost in the woods that I can see from the window and, each evening, as light levels fall, small groups of Jackdaws head north, no doubt to a sizeable roost with Rooks, their baggy-trousered relatives. In a morning though, it’s noticeably different as a group of about 200 fly rapidly past my office window in a fairly tight flock. If I could follow them what would I find? Do they all descend on one feeding area for breakfast, then gradually disperse throughout the day before re-assembling at their night-time roost? Do they always head to bed when light levels reach a certain point? Do they feed in pairs? (Not such a strange question, even in the winter groups of Jackdaws soaring around over streets and houses can be seen to consist of discrete pairs). They are such fascinating birds, dapper grey and black with that curious, intelligent look in their grey-white eyes. The way that all of the Jackdaws along the chimney pots of a row of houses call in response to one of their number calling as it flies over was a revelation when I first heard it. Perhaps best of all anyone could study their habits; they’re common, they associate with human habitation and they’re here all year round.