The blackbird may not peck off your nose as it is said to do in the nursery rhyme, but one blackbird in a walled garden that encloses a small house is in the process of wearing away his own nose or beak against the various windows. He has been at it for nearly a month now. First, an upstairs room where, from a rail he made repetitive dashes against what you presume is his own reflection. You hear it from down below and wonder: "Bang, Bang". Pause. Then "Bang, Bang" again. The mistress of the house has come across this phenomenon before, and explained that the bird (male) was attacking its own reflection, thinking it was seeing a rival. Her solution was to stick a piece of cardboard to the inside of the glass, in the hope that the reflection would disappear. It seemed to work. But a couple of days later that sound was heard from the kitchen window. "God help that bird, it will break its beak." So, again, cardboard is brought into use and the pecking seems to cease. But, of course, there is much activity in the kitchen and that may be part of the reason.
A few days later the same ominous sound - this time from the sitting-room window. Again the cardboard. Is that the end of it? Not at all. The racket goes on. At last, a solution that has worked in another house on the edge of a river, where birds flying swiftly around a bend might mistake a window for a water surface and come to grief: that is, to tack wide (say two-inch) white ribbons to the top of the window and let them fly freely. That is, in addition to the cardboard. No, after a lull, it all starts again. Now, from their conduct around the low-placed bird-bath, it is obvious that male blackbirds are aggressive. When they feel it is their time of the afternoon for a splash, everything else with feathers is chased away. You know that purposeful, fast-hopping of the male as some unfortunate robin or gold-crest makes for the water.
Mind you, the thought is entirely for the welfare of the bird. How can the beak survive that constant pecking at an unmoving surface? Lovely birds. David Cabot tells us they are the principal songsters of the dawn chorus: "a loud melodious warbling distinguished from the song thrush by its lack of repetitive phrases." No other bird that has nested in this garden has done the same. Addison wrote: "I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than of cherries." But what is the cure for this knocking? Any ideas? Y