Who goes there?

 


‘Tap, tap, tap.’

I heard the noise clearly as I was sitting on the patio enjoying the early spring sunshine. What could it be? I thought it was coming from the people who have just bought the house over the field. They have been working on renovating and I often see a bright light which they use to focus on their work. But no, I looked over and no one was there. Could it be a woodpecker? But no, we do not have mature trees near enough for a woodpecker to drill. In the end I saw a great-tit tapping away at the entrance to our new bird box.  The hole was the exact size for this bird so why work on the entrance when there was no need?

The house sparrows which showed an interest in the box early in the year have long gone so there were no other contenders for the nest site. I talked to my friend about it. She said perhaps the bird was simply claiming the box for his family and putting his marker on it to make it his own. Just like when we came to this new house, we gave it a name and put up a specially made sign at the door. The birds out there know what they are doing and there was no need for me to wonder.

I wondered what to do when I had difficulty using my loyalty card at the supermarket.  It is on my mobile phone, but I could not make it register. I was advised by the person standing near the tills to take it to customer services. I took it and explained my problem. The woman there had no difficulty.

“It works when you know what you are doing,” I said.

“It works when you don’t know what you are doing,” she laughed.

That is the trouble with technology we use it all the time without always knowing we are even using it. I wonder how many times we are speaking to a robot when we ring up and think we are speaking to a real person. I think that some doctors’ surgeries are going to try AI when you first ring the ‘receptionist’.

At the end of the day, we were watching through the window as the great-tit popped in and out of its new box. I noticed the blackthorn hedge across the field which looked white with flowers like snow which had avalanched over the hill. Then suddenly -

“There’s a swallow,” shouted Mr T as it cavorted in the fresh blue sky of spring. Now I am looking out for more swallows arriving from Africa to signal the new season.

 (Taken from my column in the Shropshire Star)

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