It may come as a surprise even to the likes of Sir David Attenborough, the noted naturalist, but Jackdaws in fact drink! Of course I do not simply mean that they imbibe water but that they have a penchant for beer or indeed any other alcoholic drink for that matter. You may well ask how I have come to acquire such insightful knowledge of their behavioural disposition. In fact I became aware of this peculiar characteristic a few weeks ago when I was awoken by the shrieks of two Jackdaws fighting with each other on our roof at about 4 o’clock in the morning. There is no other viable explanation for their loutish behaviour other than the fact that they had previously consumed large amounts of an alcoholic beverage earlier in the night. I make this definitive observation from my experience of similar behaviour exhibited by humans after partaking in protracted drinking binges. This point may be difficult to fathom for many at first but may I remind you that our house is located in close proximity to several village pubs where patrons have been know to discard half empty beer cans after leaving these drinking emporiums at closing time. Thus our feathered friends swoop down and consume the dregs from the cans with the resultant ‘ri ra agus ruaille buaille’ (irish for mayhem) on my roof at night.
However, noise and disturbance from these rakish rooks is not confined to the night time hours as they have taken up residence in several of our chimney pots and are refusing to leave. In fact, one could say that they are proclaiming ‘squawkers’ rights in this matter. They squeal and cry in the chimney flues during the day to such a degree that I find it difficult to concentrate on the melodious chants of the Gregorian monks which often can be heard on my CD player. In fact I find their antisocial behaviour a source of extreme discomfort both day and night. This is particularly distressful as I recently just gotten used to the rural pleasures of squealing hen parties in the coop, cats cavorting in the shrubs, neighing nags (Connemara ponies) in the fields behind the house and barking bitches (neighbours dogs) in a sort of canine chorus of nightly sounds. My good lady sleeps blissfully through this entire clamour and says that I am simply a ‘clownie from the townie’ at heart and that I should be able after some 30 years living in the countryside to make some concessions to the nocturnal niceties of rural living.
However, I was adamant that I would not ‘brook these rooks’ or let them get the better of me. At first, I decided to turn up the sound on my CD player to such a degree that it would drown out their constant wailing. Unfortunately, the sound carried further than I had imagined and I was accused of holding a ‘shebeen’ in my house late at night. For a while I must admit that I developed a kind of crow obsession and could be seen listening to Sheryl Crow and indeed Counting Crows at all hours of the day and night. In fact the whole scene was reminiscent of the Hitchcock mover ‘The Birds’ such was the sense of impending disaster pervading our house. However, when one day I heard my good wife explain to my daughter that her father was showing severe signs of rural stress, in what she referred to as my ‘Bats in the Belfry’ disposition, I must admit that I was beginning to feel that I might be letting the matter get to me just a little more than I had first realised.
At last, I hit on a viable solution and as a distraction from the crows I started counting sheep at night. This procedure was at first not helped by questions from my good lady in the morning asking ‘did you sheep well’ last night. However, I am glad to report that I am now sleeping like a new born lamb. I have begun to act in a more tolerant manner to my immigrant chimney friends and indeed with the help of my sheep counting exercises the crows no longer knock a feather out of me. There is one small anxiety however which my perceptive wife has quietly mentioned to me in passing. She ventured an opinion that I might simply be replacing one animal obsession with another one. Of course this is ridiculous I replied sheepishly, as there is no way that I am going to allow such theories to pull the wool over my eyes.
To Quote the Sheryl Crow song lyric:
“ All I wanna do is have some fun, I got a feeling I’m not the only one---“
All comments and musings on this daft nonsense welcome!
However, noise and disturbance from these rakish rooks is not confined to the night time hours as they have taken up residence in several of our chimney pots and are refusing to leave. In fact, one could say that they are proclaiming ‘squawkers’ rights in this matter. They squeal and cry in the chimney flues during the day to such a degree that I find it difficult to concentrate on the melodious chants of the Gregorian monks which often can be heard on my CD player. In fact I find their antisocial behaviour a source of extreme discomfort both day and night. This is particularly distressful as I recently just gotten used to the rural pleasures of squealing hen parties in the coop, cats cavorting in the shrubs, neighing nags (Connemara ponies) in the fields behind the house and barking bitches (neighbours dogs) in a sort of canine chorus of nightly sounds. My good lady sleeps blissfully through this entire clamour and says that I am simply a ‘clownie from the townie’ at heart and that I should be able after some 30 years living in the countryside to make some concessions to the nocturnal niceties of rural living.
However, I was adamant that I would not ‘brook these rooks’ or let them get the better of me. At first, I decided to turn up the sound on my CD player to such a degree that it would drown out their constant wailing. Unfortunately, the sound carried further than I had imagined and I was accused of holding a ‘shebeen’ in my house late at night. For a while I must admit that I developed a kind of crow obsession and could be seen listening to Sheryl Crow and indeed Counting Crows at all hours of the day and night. In fact the whole scene was reminiscent of the Hitchcock mover ‘The Birds’ such was the sense of impending disaster pervading our house. However, when one day I heard my good wife explain to my daughter that her father was showing severe signs of rural stress, in what she referred to as my ‘Bats in the Belfry’ disposition, I must admit that I was beginning to feel that I might be letting the matter get to me just a little more than I had first realised.
At last, I hit on a viable solution and as a distraction from the crows I started counting sheep at night. This procedure was at first not helped by questions from my good lady in the morning asking ‘did you sheep well’ last night. However, I am glad to report that I am now sleeping like a new born lamb. I have begun to act in a more tolerant manner to my immigrant chimney friends and indeed with the help of my sheep counting exercises the crows no longer knock a feather out of me. There is one small anxiety however which my perceptive wife has quietly mentioned to me in passing. She ventured an opinion that I might simply be replacing one animal obsession with another one. Of course this is ridiculous I replied sheepishly, as there is no way that I am going to allow such theories to pull the wool over my eyes.
To Quote the Sheryl Crow song lyric:
“ All I wanna do is have some fun, I got a feeling I’m not the only one---“
All comments and musings on this daft nonsense welcome!
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