A tranquil day, warm and cloudless. A lapping sea, busy bees and the honeyed scent of Euphorbia mellifera all served to reinforce the sublime feeling of calm. However, the avian community had not received the memo. They fought and flirted, they sang with the lungs of Pavarotti. Yesterday one of the crows was given a thorough and very noisy beating by a pair of song thrushes; I would imagine he was attempting a fly-through snack at their nest site. Later a rather bedraggled looking Inky sat at the top of the sycamore attempting a comb-over to disguise his missing tail feathers. That’ll teach him, or maybe not.