The bowling club car park is almost deserted. Above my car, three wood pigeons peck at ash flowers that hang like clusters of tiny fists, while I watch the trees through my binoculars from the driver’s seat, hoping I’ve arrived in time to catch a “mud‑dabber” in action for the third consecutive spring. A rapid “Hwit-hwit-hwit” call gives the nuthatch (Sitta europaea) away. But it isn’t until she lands upside down on the trunk of a nearby oak that I can admire her blue-grey back, soft cinnamon belly and black go-faster eye stripe. As with all nuthatch pairs, the female is in
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