glen vaudrey

About eleven years ago a blackbird landed in our back garden. For reasons now lost to Mrs H. she whistled to her feathered visitor. Nothing complex - just a series of random notes repeated several times. The blackbird looked at her and then flew off.

The following day Jackie was hanging out the washing when the same blackbird appeared on the roof of our garden shed. Once again, she whistled the same series of notes that she'd whistled the previous day. To her astonishment the bird promptly whistled the same notes back.

Everyone knows that parakeets and mynah birds can mimic the human voice but at one time few people imagined that this was a talent shared by blackbirds. But it is.

During that summer Mrs. H became good friends with the bird, whom she named Blackie. It visited our garden every day and became bolder and bolder in terms of how close it would approach. Jackie then began to feed it and within two weeks it was quite literally eating out of her hand.

Eventually the bird stopped visiting our garden and we assumed she'd flown off to pastures new. To our delight, however, Blackie returned the following summer. Once again Jackie had been hanging out the washing when she heard the peculiar whistle she'd taught the bird the year before. Startled, she turned round to see our old friend standing on the path.

Over and over Blackie whistled the same tune, in response to which Jackie whistled back. Once again she began to visit our garden daily. On one occasion Jackie was indoors when she heard her feathered friend calling for her. She went outside and smiled at the sight which greeted her. There, standing on the shed roof, were Blackie and four downy young blackbirds. We're convinced that she had brought her young to show us.

One by one the young birds joined Blackie on the path and they all waddled to within a yard or so of Jackie's feet.

Blackie continued to visit us until last year. With each passing summer the whistles become louder and more persistent. She would jump up and down on the garden fence or the shed roof until Jackie popped outdoors to see her.

When Jackie first told me of the almost psychic relationship she had developed with Blackie I was a bit sceptical. I didn't think she was making it up but I did think that she wanted so much to believe that the bird was repeating her whistle that her imagination was getting the better of her.

But then I heard it for myself and actually managed to tape-record a conversation between Mrs. H. and Blackie. I no longer doubted that an extraordinary relationship had developed between them.

Perhaps the most fascinating interaction between Blackie, Jackie and I occurred in the summer of 2000. We were sitting watching the TV early one evening when we heard a frantic scratching at the front door, accompanied by an intense flapping noise. We both went to investigate, and as we opened the door we heard Blackie's familiar whistle. The bird was extremely distressed. It flew towards a nearby bungalow in which lived some neighbours, both of whom had severe disabilities. It continued to fly back and forth between our front door and the other residence, and it was obvious to us that Blackie was trying to tell us something.

We both hurried over to the bungalow and knocked on the door. Our elderly neighbour opened it and whilst Blackie was whistling frantically behind us, said, "Oh, thank goodness! I was just about to ring you and ask for your help! Quickly…come in!"

Jackie and I walked down the hall and into the lounge. There, fluttering around wildly, was a young blackbird. It had flown through the open patio doors and couldn't find its way out. I took off my pullover, threw it over the bird and brought it to the ground. I gently uncovered it and held it in my hands until it calmed down. I then went into the back garden where – no surprises here – Blackie was waiting. I let the young bird go and it flew straight to its mother.

The only explanation we can think of is that Blackie scratched, flapped and whistled at our door because it wanted our help.

Last year Blackie returned once again. As usual, Jackie and her feathered friend talked to each other but what thoughts were running through her avian brain must remain a matter of speculation. All Jackie knew was that she'd found a true and honoured friend.

Sadly, things came to grief. One day last summer Jackie went out into the garden and found Blackie dead, lying in the ornamental bird bath where she often used to bathe and drink. We gave her a decent burial. I'm no expert, but I reckon eleven years or more must be a pretty good innings for a blackbird.

And that, we thought, was that. But there is a peculiar postscript to this story, which I find entirely baffling. Two weeks ago, Mrs. H and I were both in the garden when we heard what sounded like the unique whistle she'd taught Blackie all those years ago. It wasn't the same but it was eerily similar. Suddenly a young blackbird flew down and landed on the path near Jackie. Three times it repeated the whistle. The only conclusion we could come to was that the bird was one of Blackie's offspring and that it had somehow inherited the whistle from its mother. The bird is now a frequent visitor to our garden. It's like having Blackie back again. Like the original Blackie, this one has taken to whistling and will not desist until Mrs. H or I go out and show ourselves. Satisfied, Blackie II will then fly off.

This morning things took an even stranger turn. I went out into the garden and as usual, heard the familiar whistle. I looked up and saw what at first I thought was Blackie II sitting on a nearby rooftop. What surprised me was its size. It seemed to have grown considerably since the last time I saw it. The bird took off and headed straight for our garden. It landed on the roof of our shed and I stared at it. It wasn't Blackie II at all. In fact, it wasn't even a blackbird. It was a jackdaw. It looked at me, whistled Mrs. H's tune and then flew off.

To be honest, much as I'm fascinated by the whole thing I really haven't a clue what the hell is going on. Can blackbirds teach songs to their young? Can jackdaws imitate blackbirds? And why on earth would the jackdaw I saw this morning want to imitate the call Mrs. H taught to Blackie?

I'm sure there must be a rational explanation for all this but not being an ornithologist I can't think of what it might be. I'm really hoping that some readers out there will respond to this blog and give me their two-pennorth's worth….