What about my tits?

 

Our walks in the woods are changing. Several months ago, we noticed lots of different coloured dots on the trees, and at one stage a man in a green and brown uniform hugging one. Actually, he was measuring the circumference and if his arms met, it was too small. Good enough gauge I suppose, especially if you didn’t have a tape measure.

 

When in New Zealand, I was able to see the various timber industry stages from the felling of mature trees, to bare mountains as they left the land to recover, replanting (looked like tiny green zits on a hill), saplings resembling green after-shaving stubble, semi mature trees, then another landscape of mature pine. The entire process takes about 25 years, but I saw it all on a coach journey from Mount Maunganui to Napier.

 

I don’t know how it’s going to work here. It seems that these trees were sold at auction, and when The Forestry Commission had disposed of sufficient Lots, the equipment brought in to fell them over a period of some three months. Several popular areas of the woods have therefore been closed to walkers by putting up streams of plastic tape and a variety of warning signs. Luckily there are plenty of alternatives, but you still hear of the occasional miffed owner who didn’t see the signs and had to either backtrack or was asked to keep his waggy friend on a leash (common sense mate!).

I suppose the colour of the dot denoted who had bought what, and the cut wood would then be log stacked accordingly ready for collection. Replanting will then occur to replace the cut trees and we hope, the lost habitats of the wildlife affected.

 

Now what has this got to do with my tits you may ask.

 

Several years ago, we lived in a small avenue with a variety of trees along the roadside. They weren’t all that big, certainly not intimidating, or spilling out into the road itself, neither were the roots pushing up the tarmac or distorting the pavements. So we were surprised one day to come home and find that 2 of the trees at one end of our road were missing. They hadn’t been dug up either, just cut off about a foot above pavement level, so of no use to anyone or for anything.

The first we realised the tree outside our house had been cut down was when my husband reversed into the stump as it was below his line of vision in the rear view mirror. Sounds daft doesn’t it? I mean, you’d think we’d notice a tree that wasn’t there any more don’t you. It all comes down to looking but not actually seeing, and taking for granted everyday things that are suddenly removed.

I sent an e-mail to the council, saying how distraught I was that my newly fledged family of blue tits would no longer have anywhere to sit (my exact words were ‘Where are my tits going to sit?’ ). Fledglings tend to use resting places between the outside world and the nesting box until they are strong enough to be independent to ‘leave home’. I explained about the missing tree and how it appeared that all of the trees in our road were being removed without consulting the residents. We’d certainly not received any such notification.

I had a very nice reply from a gentleman who was obviously a bird lover too, and he asked if we would like a tree for our front garden instead. We came home from work a few days later to find a variety of hawthorn (no barbs and with planting instructions) in a pot by our front door. We sent another email of thanks to confirm delivery and invited him to visit our house to see the tree insitu. He later sent us a message to say he’d driven by but couldn’t stop and that he was pleased we were happy with the council’s replacement.

As far as we know, we were the only residents in the road to be given a replacement tree. Even better was it didn’t cost us anything, and the birds had a new place to perch!

 

 

 

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